Tropicália or the second book of the vigilantes
by SeteEntediados
Summary: Rachel Berry returns home and becomes suspicious of a murder that upsets Santana Lopez. The Vigilantes are challenged to settle the case before Rachel pays the price. (ON HIATUS)
1. Chapter 1

" _Odeio segunda/ não gosto de terça/ melhoro na quarta/ sorrio na quinta/ gargalho na sexta/ eu subo na mesa..._ "(1)

Santana Lopez felt her heart pound in her chest as she ran as hard as she could. She was in the best shape so far: she had no serious injuries for a while, regular training gave her the ability to run faster and longer. She could reach 50km/h and keep the top speed for about 10 minutes, as measured by Marley Rose. Santana was stronger, too. She got to raise two tons for a few minutes. Marley was doing a great job. Not only was she the person who competently managed the assets of the vigilantes (the inheritance Grant Fish left to Santana), but she was also a dedicated physical education researcher. Marley wasn't exactly a scientist in the area, but she struggled to learn as much as she could to contribute to the group.

" _... e começo a dançar/ e só vou parar/ quando a polícia chegar._ "(1)

Santana was giving her all. The sirens were nearby, police cars were chasing after her like crazy. Imagine this: the vigilante ran through the city in broad daylight, promoting a media spectacle for journalists and the hundreds of witnesses who recorded excerpts of the crazy pursuit through the streets of the city. The roads she needed to do promoted a spectacle that caused tire friction, sudden braking, small beats along the way. The sirens produced an annoying symphony, but the vigilante couldn't stop.

"You're almost there, San!" Santana listened to Marley by the listening point.

Santana couldn't respond verbally. With the effort she was making to run to the right place, not get caught in the way and not get shot, vocalizing any consistent phrase was too demanding. She ran between cars in the wrong direction, turned off the road, took supposed escape routes, but soon reappeared to the police to continue to pursue her. She could hear sirens, horns, and even shouts of encouragement. The police detested it, but the vigilantes have become somewhat popular in the city, especially the supposed leader, the skinny girl with incredible strength who, a little over a year ago, saved lives by holding a pickup that would plummet from the city's taller bridge.

" _Não tem como voltar/ só vamos parar/ quando a polícia chegar..._ "(1)

In her completely black uniform and the old ninja cap that only left her eyes on, Santana was beginning to show signs of exhaustion. Luckily the final destination was very close. The police were just behind, the sirens were on, there was all the noise, and Santana ran into the middle-class neighborhood that was very close to the house where Rachel Berry's parents lived. The quiet street suddenly found itself invaded by the vigilante's confusion. Santana entered one of the houses. She invaded the place, catching surprise by two men who were armed. The vigilante punched them both shut to make them unconscious. Then she turned for a brief moment to the front of the house, which was already being surrounded by the police.

"Flying!" Santana said over the phone. "Now!"

She ran to the backyard and spotted Artie flipping through the flyers and then flew into the backyard of the house, holding Santana's hand. They flew toward the woods, where they could divert the policemen and escape. Not that the law enforcers were behind the vigilantes, since suddenly some men who was in the house invaded by the vigilante, despaired and opened fire. The police reacted. In the crossed shot, the men was shot down and the house was invaded. From the vigilante there was no sign whatsoever; on the other hand, agents discovered that the basement of the house was overflowing with weapons, ammunition, explosives and a very expensive collection of wines.

" _Quando a polícia chegar..._ " (1)

...

Santana was completely exhausted and sweaty when she reached the apartment with Artie. They found Marley Rose and Quinn Fabray watching the press coverage they did live in front of the house, which was the end point of the vigilante action for that day. And it wasn't any journalist or channel they accompanied. Mercedes Jones spoke frantically to the front of the camera.

" _We have just had access to one of the leaflets scattered by the flying vigilante. They are copies of a letter apologizing for the inconvenience and justifying the mobilization as the only way they found of causing the police to blow up a depot of smuggled arms that would be distributed to drug groups by the state. The letter says that their denunciation was summarily ignored, and they still accuse the existence of corrupt agents and infiltrators..._ "

The letter was Quinn Fabray's idea, who wasn't present in that particular operation, but who participated actively in the vigilante's activity. The vigilantes discovered that there was an undercover agent in the police station who was hiding evidences and accusations that came to the department. When they realized that the clandestine distribution warehouse could be disabled if they anonymously denounced the location, Santana had the idea of taking the police there, and Quinn suggested drafting the "open letter" to explain the confusion that would be caused.

"The repercussion on social media is already great," Quinn said as she manipulated the cell phone. "But I'm sure the new sheriff will outwit us for having reported in an open letter that there is an infiltrate to the police rather than the weapons depot itself."

"I can't wait for Matt to finish his training at the police academy." Santana removed the listening equipment and looked at the table of cases they were investigating. She took the brush and crossed out the operation she had just performed. "It'll make it a lot easier to have one of us in there." Then she turned to her friends. "Did someone order food? This whole race made me hungry!"

"There's a whole pizza from yesterday," Marley reported as she checked the computers. "Seriously, we need a hacker or someone agile enough to operate this tower," she complained.

"What's the matter, Rose?" Artie approached the command table. He himself had more computer skills than his friend, but the fact that he needed to be on the field prevented him from operating the table as much as he wanted.

"This thing has stopped again."

As Artie checked the computers, Marley got up and headed for Santana. She took the vigilantes' hand, who was still wearing a glove (Santana began to wear the dressing gown since she began wearing the new black uniform, as she was convinced she was a matter of protecting her identity). They exchanged quick glances, as if they were talking in silence. The gesture didn't go unnoticed by Quinn, by far, the best observer of the team. It had been some time since Santana and Marley were meeting intimately. They couldn't call it dating, for Santana still had things to settle with Jenny. The leader would assume nothing with Marley until she solved this particular problem. Jenny was possessive and knew Santana's secret identity. The leader hated being in the hands of someone who, in a moment of anger, could denounce her.

Quinn saw everything with some concern. Marley was the person who administered all the money destined for the vigilantes' operation. She had put the money into stocks and active funds, so that she could get some every month to pay the bills and her own salary. Quinn understood that the money was officially from Santana, as were all the properties that the vigilantes wore: the apartment in the center of town and the cabin in the forest grounds. What if Marleyt and Santana disagreed? What if Santana couldn't solve the problem with Jenny? Worse: what if Rachel returned? Would Marley have enough maturity to face all these problems and still remain professional? After all, Marley was the only one with a salary. And there was a good ideological justification for it.

"Pizza, ice queen?" Santana finally removed her gloves and took the pack of the dawn pizza.

"I'm fine. I'm leaving soon to get Beth at school." She sighed and went to the espresso machine. She poured herself a cup. "I still have a test to do tonight in college. Thankfully we have solved this problem." Qyuinn went before the investigation panel and saw the pending cases. There was still a big one to solve, apart from the day-to-day problems they were handling while patrolling.

"Are you sleeping in the cabin today?" Santana asked, looking casual. Quinn was the vigilante who liked to spend time in the cabin, for it was a quiet, peaceful place, unlike the living quarters in which she lived.

"Not today," Quinn replied, trying to feign indifference. "You can't go there with so much to do in the city today and tomorrow. Who will cover Mercedes?"

"Wouldn't it be me?" Artie frowned at Quinn. "By the way, Rose, the system is fine. It was just a bug."

Artie showed all the cameras that were connected to the system. They were a total of 40 that spread through the city in strategic places, including in the building where they were. There was a camera in front of the police station, another on the city hall street, two in the park and a few others that were relocated according to the investigations that were being done. All of them worked using the city's own wi-fi system, whose passwords were hacked by a friend of Artie a few months ago. A trifle cost five Thousand to the vigilantes' pocket.

"Things seem to be rattling at the police station and the city hall." Artie highlighted the two cameras and then checked the Mercedes messages. "There's going to be a press conference soom. The note card had more repercussion than we had anticipated."

"Great!" Santana saw the messages while eating the pizza pieces. "While Matt is not in, it's good to have things shaken from the inside. If things don't change on their side, and they don't make the minimum, our job will be impossible in this city."

"That's because the police's priority today is to arrest us, and they forget about the real bad guys." Quinn sighed and began to pick up her things. "I need to get Beth in school... I'm already late," Quinn grunted.

"Get my car, Ice." Santana took the keys from the table and offered them to her friend.

Quinn didn't hesitate. She took the keys from Santana's hands and hurried out of the apartment. Santana wouldn't need her car that night.

...

Marley was the only person who made money working for the vigilantes. At least that was the way everyone else voted to have someone with exclusive dedication. But there were times when Quinn bitterly regretted having voted in favor of such a proposal. Not when she knows there is a source of income, however, she and the others continue living in the shit. She still had to work at the bookstore and live in one of the poorer neighborhoods of the city. She paid rent, paid the paralegal course, paid for food, paid for Beth's extra activities at school, and at the end of the month she didn't even have the money to buy new panties. Sometimes Quinn wanted to cry. So much power in her hands, so many responsibilities, an entire year dedicated to the vigilantes, and she felt like shit. She parked the car and went to the front of the school. Beth was already waiting next to the teacher.

"Sorry I'm late. I had a setback and this traffic..." Quinn smiled uneasily at the woman.

"All right," the woman said dryly, releasing the child. "Looks like that damn vigilante messed up the whole city traffic."

Beth glared at the teacher, but Quinn moved quickly before the six-year-old girl tried to defend the vigilantes. It was what Beth did because she knew her mother was part of the group.

"It's not that bad. I curled up. Excuse me."

Quinn took her daughter's backpack and they went to the car.

"Did you borrow Santana's car?"

"Kinda, now get in there, honey."

Beth went to the backseat while Quinn took over. The woman glanced at her watch. She wasn't going to have time to leave Beth at home and go back to college. The girl could be already alone for a few hours, which greatly facilitated Quinn's work. The mother taught the little girl to call the emergency phones if necessary, to never answer the door for anyone while she was alone, not even for Matt (the horrible and, unfortunately, frequent stories of men raping their girlfriends' daughters were enough for Quinn to trust even the closest person she had). Beth also knew how to use the microwave, to make her own snack, and she knew that, unless the building was on fire, she shouldn't leave the apartment under any circumstances.

"Beth, do you mind going to college today with me?"

"More school?"

"I have a test to do. I promise we'll have tacos for dinner. What do you think?"

"Okay." The little girl didn't look very excited. "Mom?"

"Yeah?" Quinn called the car and headed for college.

"You were at your secret job today?"

"Yes, I was." Quinn never gave the daughter details of her operations.

"Did you help fighting or watching?"

"I was watching this time."

Quinn glanced in the rearview mirror and saw her daughter with a little grin in the back seat. Beth was proud of her mother being a secret superhero: the ice queen. Quinn just wasn't sure how long such a pride would perpetuate. While in college, Quinn was able to take the criminal law test, a subject for which she was even specializing in the nature of parallel work. Even the busy day didn't disturb the performance of the event. Meanwhile, outside the living room, Beth watched television in the college cafeteria under the steady gaze of miss Collins, who worked there. Quinn paid $50 for the favor, money that was precious, and she certainly wouldn't be able to recover.

"Beth?" The little girl, who was sitting at one of the tables doing her homework, looked at the man she hadn't seen for some time, so she remembered vaguely. "I'm Kurt, don't you remember me?" She nodded, but she still had doubts. "I'm friends with your mother and Rachel's. Do you remember Rachel."

"Yes, I do." Beth said with more conviction.

"Kurt Hummel? Is there a problem here?" Miss Collins was really attentive.

"Of course not, miss Collins." Kurt smiled. "It's just that I know Beth's mother, Quinn Fabray. We did theater together last year and had a good time not seeing this little girl here. Beth has grown a lot, I'm impressed!"

"Okay, but what are you doing here, Hummel? I thought you graduated."

"Yes, but I was invited to speak to a class as the screenwriter for the next play that will be staged by the amateur theater company." The boy said proudly.

"Impressive," Miss Collins said with the indifference that was peculiar to her.

"What's going on here?" Quinn approached the group. She had finished the test and as soon as she handed the document to the professor, she ran not to leave her daughter alone for a minute. The adults surrounding the child were amazed.

"Quinn!" Kurt smiled. "Long time no see you. I saw Beth around here and imagined you were around. By the way, how are you doing?"

"I'm fine. Working triple journeys, studying... single mother's life. What about you?"

"I'm working in the theater company."

"Cool." Quinn did not hide the disinterest. But there was a good cause: she was tired after a busy day, literally.

"Have you talked to Rachel? I haven't heard from her in a while."

"Rachel's fine, as far as I know. We talk every week, and she's been working hard."

"Cool…"

"Yeah…"

"Beth, let's go. Thank you for breaking that branch, miss Collins, and it was a pleasure, Kurt."

Quinn left the college holding Beth's hand toward Santana's old car. She turned on the radio, which was fixed on the news station. It was the economics program. She looked at the rearview mirror and saw her daughter asleep in the back seat. The neighborhood wasn't so far from the community college campus, but the girl must have been really tired. Quinn narrowed her eyes for a second, sighed, and when she found herself, she had to stop abruptly at the entrance to the neighborhood where she lived. Her heart pounded as she saw a man banging on the hood of the car. Immediately she got out of the car and only then came across a very nervous man, who pointed the gun at her.

"Your fucking cow! I want the car now."

"Ok..." She said shakily, hands up. "Just let me get my daughter." Beth's cry and cry from inside the car made her desperate.

The man, nervous and apparently limping over the car crash, didn't hear her, didn't want to know. He tapped Quinn's face, which ended up responding. Her hand was freezing, her eyes turned grey. She held the barrel of the gun, the thug fired, but the shot failed due to the cold. Quinn took advantage of the confusion to kick the man in a well-placed low blow, followed by a knee to the man's face, which fell. It was in moments like this that she gave thanks to the training she did with the vigilantes. Quinn saw other men come up screaming. They seemed to be armed. Quinn didn't want to get lucky by chance: she ran back to the car and pulled out of there. Instead of going to the building where she lived, which was in the next block, she took the avenue that gave access to the exit of the city.

"Come on, Beth!" Quinn said, still shaking when she finally pulled up in front of the cabin that was forty miles from downtown.

Quinn had the keys to that place. All the vigilantes had a copy. There was a fine car parked in front of the cabin. It was Marley's. Quinn wasn't surprised at all to realize that Santana and she used the cabin on weekdays to get laid. She didn't give a damn. There was only one window with the light coming in from the kitchen, as well as the sound of music. If they were having sex in the kitchen, it was their problem. Quinn opened the door and faced the picturesque scene of seeing Santana naked on the blanket and rug in the living room by the fireplace, while Marley, equally naked, was preparing a late-night snack.

"Beth," Quinn ordered her daughter. "Go upstairs and go to the room Mommy likes to stay."

Santana stood up, pulling the blanket with her to cover her body, while Marley was so shocked she didn't know whether to hide or use the saucer to cover the private parts.

"Fabray... what's gotten into you to show up at a time like this?"

Quinn wanted to fight, to rage, to give a sermon. Instead, her voice didn't come, a shiver ran through her body, the temperature inside the cabin dropped a few degrees, and Quinn began to cry.

...

Santana was in love with Marley's sweet way. Those who knew the young woman, a little over a year younger than the leader of the vigilantes, could never have imagined that the prodigy had a troubled past of sex, drugs and Rio's funk. After the end and the success of the latest operation, Santana and Marley resolved to escape to the cabin, after all, the vigilante one judged in the right to relax a little after to have put the own skin in the part more dangerous task of the mission, which was to get the police into a catch-and-shoot game. Santana lost count of how many bullets passed whizzing near her on the way, as if, as much as the vigilantes were working to help clean up the city, the police only saw them as thugs of the highest danger.

The cabin was a haven of tranquility. It wasn't that far from the city, and was used as a training and leisure place by the vigilantes. There were no privileges among the vigilantes as to the use of the place, the rooms were occupied according to availability and everyone had an obligation to keep the place clean and organized. But, of course, there were some preferences among them. Quinn spent the weekends in the cabin and liked to use the bedroom with the window facing toward the sunrise. Santana used the cabin sometimes in the middle of the week to stay with Marley, or on weekends to train in the morning.

Mercedes wasn't a country girl and Artie protested about the lack of accessibility, although he could fly and float, so he rarely went to the cabin. Matt was at the police academy in training, but he liked to use the cabin for leisure. Rachel had only been on the place on two occasions before finally leaving for the metropolis. The use of the cabin was scattered, not least because the main meeting point of the vigilantes was the apartment in the city.

Santana was with Marley in the cabin because she knew there would be no one there to get in the way. They could have a romantic evening, have sex, and return to the city early in the morning, since Santana spent 20 hours a week in an architecture office. Without more credits to fulfill, Santana was already in the final stretch of the course. In academic terms, her only concern was to study for the final test. Studies in the afternoon, patrol at night. In this routine, she sometimes took a day off from dating.

It was so late that afternoon, having carefully followed the plan to make the police burst the weapons depot, with all media support, she decided to rest and celebrate with her secret lover. Despite Grant's recommendation not to fall in love with Marley, and the fact that Jenny was still her girlfriend, Santana couldn't resist the charms of the assistant. Besides, Rachel was off the scene. Marley, for her part, had been with women occasionally before Santana. She didn't consider herself gay, but she was enjoying the moment with the vigilante, especially since she didn't take the relationship so seriously. They were two grown-up people (even though they were still young) enjoying themselves sexually.

"Thirsty?" Marley asked after recovering from the latest orgasm.

"I drank a lot of liquid now."

"Oh!" Marley grimaced and blushed. "Was that to hurt?"

"Just the sad reality, babe. You were enjoying it for real. On the other hand, I think your throat is dry, since you screamed so much now."

Marley slapped Santana's arm and rose from the blanket stretched out on the soft carpet that stood in front of the fireplace in the cabin. She didn't care to cover her naked body. To tell the truth, just like Santana, she felt very comfortable with herself. Marley went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There was little in it for obvious reasons. The vigilantes avoided bringing lots of fresh food to the place. But drink wasn't lacking. There were two apples inside the refrigerator, plus lemons, beer, a bottle of wine, frozen food in the freezer, and industrialized food in the cabinets, plus a providential bottle of vodka. Marley turned on the radio and put on a song she liked.

" _Quer dançar? Quer dançar? Então prepara/ A maldição bateu, sambou, nunca mais para/ E tá na cara, a raiz tá cravada no chão/ Do tronco ao fruto com a canabinol fazendo a conexão/ E sangue bom, eu disse, sangue bom._ " (2)

Santana, still lying down, watched the girl dance naked behind the kitchen counter. Marley grabbed cookies in the cupboard and beer in the refrigerator. The relatively loud sound masked the sound coming from outside the parked car. The monitor that showed the two cameras outside the cabin was off. Hence their surprise when the door opened. Santana's eyes widened as she saw Quinn and Beth entering the cabin. Marley turned off the music and didn't know how to act.

"Beth," Quinn ordered her daughter. "Go upstairs and go to the room Mommy likes to stay."

Santana stood up, pulling the blanket with her to cover her body, while Marley was so shocked she didn't know whether to hide or use the saucer to cover the private parts.

"Fabray... what's gotten into you to show up at a time like this?"

Quinn wanted to fight, to rage, to give a sermon. Instead, the voice didn't come, a shiver ran through her body, the temperature inside the cabin dropped a few degrees, and Quinn began to cry.

Santana took the shirt, which was actually Marley's, and put on the panties, which was hers. With the least clothes on her body, enough to keep her from embarrassing, Santana wrapped her arms around Quinn. It was like hugging a block of ice, but Santana remained supportive of Quinn anyway.

"Hey girl... let it all out..." Santana said softly to her colleague.

Marley went to the fireplace and put on the clothes on the floor. Like Santana, she didn't care if the pieces were hers or not. She wore her quasi-girlfriend's T-shirt and pants. Since Santana was dealing with the mother, Marley found it helpful to help the child.

"Fabray... I don't have your resistance to the cold." Santana was already trembling, with smoke streaming out of her mouth. "You need to control yourself, okay?"

Quinn wiped the tears and took a deep breath. She went into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water while Santana turned on the heater to help with the temperature of the cabin. It was cold at night, anyway. Then she approached her colleague one more time. Quinn wasn't that close to her. Apart from the fact that they had powers and be vigilantes, they didn't have much in common, hence why such moments of protection were so foreign to them both. Quinn was chatting with Matt, or she'd rather call Rachel than talk intimacies with Santana. But they were there, Marley must be with Beth, and things happened.

"I hit a guy who tried to rob me..." Quinn tried to elaborate. "And I ran away from other guys."

"Some guy tried to rob you and you ran over him?"

"No, it was the other way around." That sounded strange to Santana, but understanding the events in detail seemed less important to her. "I can't do it anymore, Santana."

"What can't you do?"

"All of it! I can't be a mother, a student, sell books, a vigilante and can't earn enough to pay the rent! And as if that weren't enough, come shit in my neighborhood and try to steal your old car with my daughter in there!" Quinn put her hands on her head. She was emotional. "I'm exhausted... I'm exhausted!"

"It's okay, Fabray. You are not alone. It's all right."

That's when Santana realized something: the vigilantes fight to save people, but who will save them from the very sorrows of life? Heroes of comic books are always super-scientists, detectives or amazing reporters whose money is never a problem. Santana had to admit that her position as a student and single woman was comfortable, and that she had forgotten to look at her companions: Quinn needed help.

...

Rachel was gasping when the play was over. She wasn't even the main actress of the company, much less the play that had spent three months staging. Although the play required physically, that wasn't why she was tired. She ran into the dressing room at the end and, still alone in space, looked at herself in the mirror. She already had enough control to know how her eyes and her body were, but the one in the mirror was a ritual. Yes, her eyes were turning red. Quickly, she took off the clothes she wore on the play, and put on her own. She removed her makeup as quickly as possible. When her colleagues entered the dressing room, Rachel was ready to leave, with sunglasses on her face.

"What's the urgency, Berry?" Unique sneered. "Are you going to meet some booty call?"

"I have a meeting," Rachel merely said.

Rachel hated Unique. In fact, she hated half the cast of that company. There was always someone trying to pull the carpet, and the competitive environment was exhausting. Unique, Kitty and Sebastian were the worst. There was still a "little group" of actors most loved by directors Shelby Corcoran, Cassandra July and Jesse St. James.

Rachel hated to think of Jesse. He was the company's most famous actor, and he had a reputation for acting regularly on television and in the theater. Jesse made so much money that he decided to buy part of the company, and to inject money into the productions and at Shelby Corcoran's small acting training school. The company itself was made up of a portion of the best students graduated from the school, and part of the actors who entered through the busy annual selection process, such as Rachel. Regardless of how the actresses were accepted, Jesse liked to keep the ritual of seducing and going to bed with the rookies who awakened his desire in some way. Rachel was one of them. When she understood what was happening, she realized how difficult that city would be.

"Where are you going?" Brody asked. He was part of the select group of favorite actors, and was secretly Cassandra's lover. More important than that, Brody was the only one in the company who knew Rachel's secret.

"I need to unload."

Brody gave up packing in the dressing room. He simply turned around to help her friend with benefits.

"It's the third time this week." Brody ran beside Rachel. He stole the lookout's coat on the way: the night in the metropolis would be cold. "Let's go to the park again?"

Rachel shook her head. What was the relationship of her powers to parks? But that was what she had at hand in a city of that size. Rachel took a ride with her friend. She didn't say anything, too intent on restraint. Brody entered a deserted parking lot where Rachel jumped out of the car and put her hand on the asphalt. Then she relaxed and let the energy flow through the body, causing a small earthquake and a circular crack in the asphalt.

"Filling better?" Brody ran his hand over Rachel's back.

"Very much..."

"Let's get out of here, okay?" Rachel nodded and got into Brody's car. "Would you like something to eat? You can spend the night at home if you want."

"It is not alright. I'd rather go to my apartment."

The apartment in question was a tiny room with bathroom on the outskirts of the city. It was what she could pay with her salary in a city whose cost of living was double that of her hometown. Rachel said good-bye to Brody, went upstairs, and unlocked the three locks of the apartment. She sighed as she entered the small space that, no matter how much Rachel worked on, it never seemed clean. She sat on the sprung bed and threw her body back. It wasn't that her career wasn't working, after all, she had a roof and was able to feed herself, besides working in a company with a certain visibility. But at what price?

Rachel looked at the cell phone and saw the repercussions of the last action of the vigilantes. Someone took a picture of Santana running between the cars. The black uniform concealed the perfect body and handsome face that Rachel had the chance to stroke and kiss. She missed that vigilante in particular. She missed the old town. She looked once more at the environment she was in and sighed. She wanted to go back, but in no way would she like to come back as a failure. She needed a plan, or rather a good excuse.

...

 _Music: Quando a Polícia Chegar, by Autoramas_

 _(1) "I hate Monday/ I don't like Tuesday/ I improve on Wednesday/ I smile on Thursday/ I laugh on Friday/ I go up on the table/ and start dancing/ and I'm just going to stop/ when the police arrive."_

 _Music: A Maldição do Samba, by Marcelo D2_

 _(2) "Wanna Dance? Wanna Dance? Then prepares yourself/ The curse struck, sambou, never again to / And it's in the face, the root is stuck in the ground / From the trunk to the fruit with the cannabinol making the connection / And good blood, I said, good blood..."_


	2. Chapter 2

Fear was not quite the word that defined Quinn Fabray's feeling at that moment. She was angry. Very angry. She was angry at having so much power, and still she was feeling useless, unable to protect her own daughter. She was angry that she couldn't move, she was angry that she had no voice, she was angry that a bunch of shit could have power over her. It was another setback suffered by Quinn, who had already suffered so much and fought so hard.

"Do you understand, blondie?" The black man threatened her inside the apartment, in front of her daughter, shaking in front of her face the thousand dollars Quinn had taken from the bank to pay the bills, and her gold necklace: the only jewel she had.

Quinn looked away from the man's face. She was cold, very cold. The smoke coming from the men's nostrils indicated that her power was active, that perhaps the eyes had turned grey. She squeezed Beth against her own body and tried to control herself.

"Do you understand?" The man pointed the gun at Quinn's head.

"Yes, I get it," Quinn said angrily, between her teeth.

"You have 24 hours to get your white ass out of here, or, if you dare to stay, you'll have the pay rent to me till you pay for all the medical bills." The man looked her up and down. "Face it like a friendliness, you whore bitch, because you helped Sayana once."

The man left, taking with him the other two henchmen used to pressure the woman. They knocked on the door of the apartment, causing Quinn to jump. She didn't mind trying to close the door. Not when the latch had been snapped. Quinn swallowed the cry and knelt before her daughter.

"Go pack your things, okay?"

"But Mom..." Beth said tearfully.

"Go pack your things. I want to see all your school supplies in the backpack."

Quinn went into her own room and picked up her old suitcase, the same one she'd come into town with. She didn't think it would be used again so soon, much less under such circumstances. She could call her vigilantes companions, she could watch the leader kicking Big Sea ass. She herself could cool the brains of the fucking thug and leave them as a vegetable. Big Sea was a trafficker and pimp who controlled the prostitution spots in the neighborhood. He was the leader of the local gang, an idiot who thought being feared was the same as being respected. He had several passages for the police and served three years for the same crimes he still practiced. He had already met the leader's fist once, which resulted in a week of hospitalization. The beating saved the prostitute from dying at that moment, but still she refused to give the testimony that would put him back in jail. The police didn't care about Big Sea because he was a little fish, a pimp like many others who offered some free services in exchange for the thick views of certain police officers. The vigilantes never turned to the Big Sea business simply because they were engaged in other demands that were more important to them.

Quinn herself never had a problem with the pimp. He never bothered her until the fateful night when she inadvertently ran over and beat Big Sea's cousin, who was part of the gang. The men behind him were from a rival faction, countering the fact that the cousin had invaded the undeveloped territory. Basically, the guy crossed the street in the neighborhood and sold cocaine and crack on the wrong corner. By hitting him, Quinn also allowed the other two guys to take the opportunity to leave Big Sea's cousin in critical condition at the hospital. Someone saw the scene and told the dealer that Quinn was involved. Hence the reason why the man broke the door of her apartment, took all the money she had and threated her. He promised Quinn a few horrors before deciding what to do with her and Beth. The courtesy offered was that Quinn had helped Big Big's sister at her studies.

Quinn didn't want to be lucky. She knew that the fact that Big Sea had just took her money, punched her in the face and kicked the pit of her stomach was a profit, an act of chivalry, that she couldn't fight back without revealing the secret identity. Quinn took the most usual clothes, her uniform of the book store, the documents and the vigilante mask. She went to her daughter's room and put some clothes in her suitcase without selecting much. She picked up Beth's favorite doll and another toy the child had attached. There was nothing left in the suitcase. What those pigs would do with the rest, she didn't want to know. Down the stairs. One floor below Matt's apartment lived the landlord's apartment.

"I'm leaving." Quinn warned the landlord's wife. "Please send the rescission of the contract to my email. I'll pay everything next month."

"What happened?" The woman was startled.

"Big Sea doesn't want to see my face in this neighborhood."

It was amazing how that answer was enough. Quinn went downstairs and realized she didn't have money for a taxi or a bus. Where would she go by walking? Luckily the center of town was not that far.

...

"You could live in the cabin for now. It's further away and you're going to need a car, but at least it's not going to pay rent." Marley suggested.

Santana grunted when she heard the proposal. It wasn't that she wanted to see Quinn living poorly in an apartment on the outskirts of town under the threat of a local drug dealer. Far from it. Santana was angry because even with every effort he had week after week, that kind of situation was still happening in the city. It was disheartening, frustrating. One step for her to be tempted to discuss Frank Castle's motto. Punisher was a comic book that David, Mecedes' ex-boyfriend, used to exemplify the actions of the vigilantes. Santana and Mercedes were arguing with David and two other colleagues about the effectiveness of the vigilantes. Fucking a thug was no good. Even when there were evidence and arrests, the system would always find a way to let anyone out of money. So why not kill? Santana knew she wasn't a murderer, that she couldn't cross the border, no matter how she used violence.

But having powers, fighting for what she believed to be fair, didn't stop Quinn from being homeless and under threat, from Rachel's rapist being released, from corrupt mayor not having get arrested, and from so many other cases denounced by vigilantes who didn't legal developments. The only one who was still supposedly arrested was Martinez, but it is known there in what kind of military prison for "special ones."

"You can have my car, Fabray. The cabin is a good place. There's room for Beth to play with, there's some security. The downside is having to wake up a little early, and that other five people have the key to the front door. We'll just be careful to let you know before we show up."

"I'll accept. Even for not having a better place to go, for now. I mean, this apartment would be great, but considering what we do here almost every night, it would not be good to have a child around."

"Then it's settled." Santana began to pack up for the patrol.

"Are you going to visit Big Sea?" Quinn asked.

"Perhaps."

"Because if you go, I want to go with you."

"Wouldn't recommend that, Fabray. Not today."

"Look, this guy terrorizes anyone who goes against him in the neighborhood, except for the pastor. I know that if we take it out of circulation, another will take the space left and God knows what it will be like. This is something we can not control, but we can solve this problem in specific. I will go with you."

"Quinn, are you sure?" Mercedes put her hand on her friend's shoulder. "Matt wouldn't like..."

"Matt's away from town training to be a cop. He's not here right now, and frankly, I don't need any boyfriend's authorization to make decisions about my own life." Quinn raged, leaving even Santana positively impressed.

"Aren't you going to have trouble with Beth? This can take a while."

"Beth can sleep here tonight. She won't get in the way, she knows... Marley can stay and help, right?" Quinn said with such a determined look that it would be crazy for the assistant to say no.

"Suit up, Ice." Santana nodded. "Let's leave after nine. In the meantime, let's study a bit."

The study that Santana was referring to had nothing academic. Since this was a specific operation, she had to study the possible inputs and outputs. Big Sea lived in a penthouse in a building not far from where Quinn lived, as there were no cameras in the area, Artie planned to use a drone controlled in the car that would be parked nearby. The images would serve both to assist the girls on the field and to broadcast everything to watchtower, which was basically Marley. The drone would provide Quinn and Santana with the first information on how to enter. Traffic chiefs used to have strong security, and it was known that Big Sea provided reinforcement on its own after the vigilantes' first visit a few months earlier.

"The buildings are close enough. We can jump from one to the other. "Santana analyzed the images.

"You can jump that distance easily, Lopez. I don't."

"I can throw you." Santana wasn't kidding. "You go in and freeze the building's power box. There will be a power outage, which will be the advantage I will have to catch the guy without taking a shot. At least that's what I expect."

"I'm not just going to freeze a box, Lopez."

"No... you're going to watch my back." Santana walked to Marley and Artie's side. "Flying, I want you on the field for emergencies."

Artie nodded. He would always be ready.

…

There was something that deeply annoyed Santana about the ongoing mission. She wasn't intent on getting the bad guy. It wasn't because Big Sea didn't deserve it: the man was supposed to be in jail for a few decades' sentence for being a drug dealer, gigolo, exploiter of people, and tormenting a neighborhood he thought he owned. But Big Sea was just one more cycle of violence that characterized the world of gangs. Without it, other people would assume the place and function. It wouldn't be a beating of the vigilantes that would end such a cycle. The action would have to be deeper, involve community and state authorities. In short, change required someone in a position of power to care for all those people. But with a weak city hall and corrupt police, what to do?

Another thing bothered Santana deeply about the operation: it was about revenge. Deep down, Big Sea would get a lesson and be taken off the streets because he threatened Quinn Fabray. If such a run-in, followed by the coercive invasion of Quinn's apartment hadn't occurred, would the vigilantes be on that mission? The leader looked at her colleague. Santana and Quinn got out of the car in the suburban neighborhood, close to the building they were supposed to climb. Santana, still without the mask, but with part of her black uniform, walked side by side with Quinn, equally unmasked and partially uniformed. They waved to Artie and Santana received a message from Marley, who was perfectly safe in the downtown apartment as watchtower.

Quinn indicated the side entrance of the building, which was locked. Nothing that Santana's push didn't solve. They climbed 15 floors of stairs, because the elevator was broken. For Santana it was just a simple exercise. For Quinn that demanded effort. They reached the roof and put on the uniform completely. Quinn still took the opportunity to drink some water and catch her breath.

"It looks like your friend is home. Lucky for us" Santana said as she watched the trafficker's terrace with a pair of binoculars. Then, she check again the images of the drone at her cellphone.

"How many henchmen? He's a coward who beats women and has henchmen to protect him."

"I can't say for sure. I see five people circling around the house."

Quinn wore her black and grey mask. Her uniform also had grey details, which she claimed to be to characterize her powers. She picked up the water bottle more to detonate the energy of the other building than to use it as a weapon. Quinn missed Matt at that time. They trained a movement in which Matt made water droplets float in the air, Quinn projected his powers to freeze, and the resulting stones were shot by Matt. It was a deadly weapon. Matt, however, wasn't there. He hadn't been present for nearly four months in Quinn's life and the vigilantes.

"Ready? Did you checked the equipment? Everything?" Santana asked and Quinn nodded.

Santana had no trouble firing Quinn to the next building. She herself then needed to take little distance to jump from one to the other. Quinn felt her ankle and wrists for landing badly, but it had been only the pain of the impact since she was on her feet. Santana signaled. Quinn then poured water into the circuit and then froze the power distribution system, causing a short. Santana and she would only have to jump over the wall separating the antenna and service area from the roof of the apartment building of the dealer. Santana climbed deftly and pulled Quinn with her. There was some agitation with the lack of light. You could see flashlights of the cell phones being activated. They jumped.

The darkness made it easy for Santana, backed by Quinn, to knock out one by one easily and without taking unnecessary risks, after all, all the men were armed there. It wasn't even a complicated task when one entered the palace directly through the king's room. The light from the moonlight and the fallen cell phones made it possible to visualize the bottles of drinks and the powder of cocaine on the glass table of the living room and the bar inside the luxurious apartment. It was even tedious from such a cliché. Santana stormed into Big Sea's bedroom, and found him sitting on the edge of the bed with a pistol in his hand. The women there shouted: they were two young girls, still teenagers. Quinn took care of restraining them while Santana advanced on the bandit. He had no chance and was quickly arrested.

"Where are the accounting books?" Santana asked.

Accounting books were anything used for business control. Any bandit had his in electronic mode or on a simple agenda: everything depended on the extensions of the business.

"Fuck you," the bandit resisted.

"Ice!" Santana signaled to Quinn, who was already taking pictures of the scene.

"These girls." Quinn said with her voice modified by the device on the mask, which made the tone metallic. "You bastard! These girls are under age!"

"So what?" Big Sea said cynically. "They're old enough to handle a dick."

Quinn approached the immobilized dealer and slapped his face as hard as she could. The force was maximized by the cold temperature of Quinn's body, which was already expanding into the environment. The dealer laughed, ironically. Then, Quinn kicked him the same way he kicked her earlier.

"Do you really think you can arrest me by taking those shitty pictures? You ain't be able to step beyond this terrace."

Santana realized that there was an emergency system in that apartment. It was something she hadn't detected before. Without hesitation, she ran to the front doors and quickly blocked them. Santana picked up all the weapons she found and put them in a bag. They could be evidence of possession than illegal weapons. She did the same with the cell phones of the men passed out. She knocked again on the men who were awakening, and walked quickly through the apartment and found a computer and some notebooks. Santana also picked them up. She heard the screams of men trying to gain access to the apartment. The shots didn't take long. The girls started yelling and Big Sea smiling.

"Are not you ashamed to prostitute teenagers?" Quinn asked an extremely arrogant drug dealer.

"As I said, they're old enough to handle a big stick."

"You're repulsive in taking advantage of 14-year-old girls."

"They make more money with me than working as a nanny." Quinn felt hatred for the man.

"Ice!" Santana entered the room again. "Time to go."

Santana punched the drug dealer and left him unconscious, taking the man next. The girls were left behind. There was not much to be done for them at that moment.

"Flying!" Santana called over the communicator as she and Quinn ran back to the terrace patio.

Santana threw the dealer into the next building as if it were a sack of sand, then it was Quinn's turn and finally she jumped. Artie appeared flying and loaded the drug dealer while the two would have to turn around for the hour. Santana watched the terrace being taken over by the gang and waited for the right moment to leave.

"Did you record everything?" Santana asked.

"Yes." Quinn checked the generated file and listened. "It's all here."

"Send it to Watchtower. Tell her to go over to reporters."

There was a protection system in the tower equipment that made IP identification unlikely. It was an invention of a friend of Artie who, apparently, could create anything. Santana suspected that this fellow was endowed with special powers, that the ability to invent incredible things with simple materials was too extraordinary.

"Stupid guy," Santana commented as she checked the next building.

"Unfortunately it's nothing new to us."

"Unfortunately. Are you alright?"

"No." Quinn shook her head and Santana could feel from the chill that her friend was still very dismayed at the mission. "That girl in that ordinary's bed worked as Beth's nanny a few times. It is unbelievable that she has fallen in this life. Katya had a good temper and was a good student. I don't understand what happened."

"Well, she's 14 years old, she lives in a neighborhood where teenage pregnancy is an epidemic, a lot of the boys are initiated into gangs, traffickers think they are feudal kings, and the city doesn't even want to know. Figure it."

"That's a good summary." Quinn sighed. "In a way, I'm relieved to have been expelled. I mean, there are good people living there. Honest people who work and fight. But there are many dangers too. My daughter is growing up and living in a place where certain types of violence are naturalized."

"It's not just this neighborhood, Ice. You know that."

"I know..." Quinn knew full well what Santana meant. Quinn never told Santana a lot of details of the past, since she never considered her to be close friends enough to do so. On the other hand, the vigilant leader had a good idea of the story and didn't need so much information to connect the dots. "On the other hand, being in a better environment helps a lot."

Santana looked at the building next door again. The gang wasn't so smart and not so organized to follow them. In five minutes, flying was there to fetch them and take them to the safety of another part of the city.

...

Brody's apartment was similar in size to what Rachel shared with Kurt. Brody also had a friend to share the rent: a dancer named Alex, whom Rachel knew to be a luxury whore guy, just as Brody was. Alex was rarely around, which was good. Rachel found the unfriendly, self-confident, unreliable dancer. Rachel liked to spend a few nights in that place, especially when she hadn't the heart to go back to the apartment she was renting for a more expensive price than when she lived with Kurt, and in a dangerous neighborhood of the city.

In that morning, Rachel saw the news linked in the Mercedes' blog about the latest action by the vigilantes, who arrested a local drug dealer who was prostituting teenagers from the neighborhood where Quinn Fabray lived. Rachel wanted to send a message to Santana asking for details. According to the article written by Mercedes, the trafficker was arrested in his underwear in a building while the city's public speaker looped back a recording in which the man confessed to prostitute a teenager. The police arrived in time to prevent the population from lynching the man. Meanwhile, documents and evidence such as licensed weapons scraped, notebooks and a computer were handed to the police.

"Did you sleep well?"

Brody kissed her shoulder, still very pleased with the good sex in the night before. He was a performer on stage or in bed. With Rachel, he didn't need any of it, and he could be himself. That's why she liked Rachel so much. Since they weren't officially in a relationship, nobody judged anyone or try to charge. For Brody, this condition was perfect. And then he watched Rachel reading the news in the morning: so natural, so domestic, so home.

"Hmm... Vigilantes capture local trafficker... light reading in the morning." Brody kissed Rachel in the corner of her lips before go to the kitchen fix the breakfast.

"It's good to know what's going on in my hometown."

"I think it's incredible that your hometown has vigilantes and this metropolis doesn't. At least, I don't think so."

"It's a city with almost 300 thousand people. It's not so small."

"Maybe. But good think I know there is superhero here too." Then he kissed Rachel on the cheek.

"I'm not a superhero." Rachel grunted and turned off the tablet.

"You are! And it's not because of your ability to change eye color." Brody smiled and handed Rachel a bowl of cereal with milk. "Have you talked to the leader?" Brody knew that Rachel knew the leader of the vigilantes, even because there was no denying that in the midst of the old videos spread over the internet. Rachel, however, never revealed the identity of Santana to Brody.

"Not. It's been a long time since I got in touch with her."

"So, she doesn't know that you're thinking of going back?"

"She's too busy and too important for someone like me."

"And do you really believe that?"

"It's a fact."

Rachel ate the cereal and then helped her friend clean the small kitchen. They were both silent, doing a routine that was almost terribly homely.

"You know... I was thinking of going with you."

Rachel let the cutlery fall to the floor at the news and stared at her friend.

"Why?"

"I don't know... it seemed a good idea to get out of this environment and breathe new air."

"So you're so proud of coming from a city like mine and of being empowered in the big city? It's not what you said to me when we first met: that this city would give me a shop shower, whether I want it or not?" Rachel stared at her friend. "Why change now?"

Brody stared at her friend and sighed. He had no better answer than the truth: that he was a failure, a program boy, whose clientele would by no means guarantee some patronage in his acting career. Brody was sick of the metropolis, but getting back to his hometown was out of the question.

"A gentleman always accompanies his lady." Brody flashed a smirk.

Rachel wasn't convinced, but there was also nothing she could do to stop him. Half the company would enter recess for the rest of the month, many would work on other things to make up the rent. She ignored her friend. She wouldn't touch the subject again in the hope of making him forget.

"Rachel?" Brody caught her friend with benefits's attention.

"What?"

"I was thinking... if you have powers and are so attached to the vigilantes, why don't you try to do something like that here?"

"These people practice hard to do what they do, Brody. It's not enough to have powers." Rachel grunted. "I know very well that you can die doing it."

"Still, it's what you want to do. Tell me the truth."

Rachel didn't answer, but what Brody said was not a lie.

...

"Let's try not to come here in the middle of the week, Fabray," Santana said as she reallocated the things she kept in the cabin in one of the bedrooms that wouldn't be used by Quinn and Beth. "But it's important that we have this place here to practice. It's the only good place we have to do this."

"I know." Quinn put a box in the room. "That will not be a problem. Nor is it that I want to spend the rest of my life in this cabin. I'm already having to rearrange all my schedules. I have to wake up early and the nearest market is two miles away. Not to mention that your car is so old, it should consume an absurd amount of gasoline." Quinn ended up raving through fatigue and frustration.

"Who said vigilante's life is easy?" Santana smiled. "Are you sure you don't want to go back to your old neighborhood now that we've disarmed the gang? At least, provisionally?"

"I'm already booked there, Lopez. I'm not saying that I wouldn't go back to that neighborhood, because I like many people who live there. Only that doesn't make sense now."

"You can freeze the gang and become the queen of the neighborhood."

Quinn wasn't infected by Santana's mood. They left the room and went down the wooden stairs, already watching the movement of the room. Artie floated around the cabin doing little maintenance, Beth followed Marley around the house, as she was "assistant" to something the assistant was doing. Mercedes was talking on her cell phone, and in the lively way she looked like a college friend. What struck Quinn the most was the way Beth felt at ease with all those people. The little girl was surrounded by uncles and aunts and she said with great pride that she was an apprentice superhero. It was dysfunctional, but that was the best family Quinn had ever had, and she was afraid that it was all about to end.

"I'll run a little. Want to go along?" Santana asked as she passed Quinn on the stairs. "You need to improve your conditioning, Fabray. You barely made it up the stairs this week."

"There were 14 flights of stairs... and I have things to organize here."

"It's up to you."

Quinn watched Santana walk out the door for a run. She sighed. She was wearing sneakers and proper clothes. Why not? Quinn descended the rest of the stairs and ran out the door, following Santana Lopez. As soon as she noticed her companion keeping her company, the leader slowed the pace for Quinn to follow. They were never close, but the events of the week made them understand each other and even be nicer to each other. They ran silently on the road in the forest which gave access to the properties of the region. Most were small animal breeders, or families who simply wanted to stay in the forest and away from the noise of the city. It wasn't a region of large houses, but no poor people lived there. They run until the small bridge. Santana stopped and took a deep breath.

"Running 600 meters is not quite a quality exercise." Quinn rolled her eyes.

Santana went down the bridge took off her sneakers and jumped on the rocks in the stream, going into the forest. Quinn was just following, not knowing what Santana wanted. At the point near the small waterfall, the leader set her foot in the water and grunted.

"It's so cold, but I bet you don't even care."

Quinn took off her sneakers and put her foot in the water. She smiled when realized that the cold didn't really bother her. So, she decided to show off. Quinn concentrated for a moment as the points of her eyes turned grey and a thin crust of ice began to form beneath the water of the stream.

"Awesome, Elsa."

"Do not call me that," Quinn warned. She hated being compared to the cartoon, and Santana knew that, and that was the reason why. "But what's the use? Freezing water? Useless power. Just save parties so you don't let the beer get warm."

"It's what you think? Your power saved me from the Boss, if I remember correctly. And if you hadn't frozen the circuit of the building, we wouldn't have taken Big Sea out of circulation."

"You did pretty much everything," Quinn grunted.

"But you were there watching my back, freezing the brains of those guys and preventing me from being shot in the back. I'm not bulletproof, Fabray. And you made the proves to put that asshole in jail."

"Maybe..."

"Why are you doubting yourself now?"

"It happens when you're 23 with a six-year-old daughter to raise, and you don't have high expectations that things will get better with a part-time job at a book store." Quinn sighed.

"I know it sucks, Fabray. You do know you don't have to do this vigilante thing to live in the cabin or hang out with us, right? You're free to look for something better."

"I know, Lopez. It's just… I've just been kicked out of my own house by a drug dealer. It hurts because I froze badly. I was so afraid that that bitch would hurt Beth. And he stole all my money! I'm still so mad!"

"At least now you'll save some money." Santana smiled uncomfortably. She understood her colleague's frustration, but there was very little she could do about it. Santana represented success in person in the eyes of Quinn: the girl from a modest family who won a scholarship at a great university, single with extraordinary powers and, best of all, free to do as she pleased. "Listen, Fabray. I've been thinking a lot about what happened to you and our last action. I thought about that 14-year-old girl who used to be Beth's nanny. I also thought about our job. What's the use of hitting bad guys at night if we can't change anything meaningfully?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"Your situation has made me think that perhaps instead of looking at the city as a whole, we will achieve better results if we focus on the part that needs the most attention. I was thinking of setting up an architecture office and developing something to help the community."

"The people in that neighborhood don't need beautiful houses, Lopez."

"I'm brainstorming here, Fabray."

"Do you really want to help those people?"

"Of course."

"So keep doing what you always did until you have the power to change things in a structural way."

"How skeptical you are."

"Or you are too optimistic."

Quinn continued to work in her power, raising the icing in the little creek. Santana stood up at the sound. In the distance he saw a man approaching, a neighbor. In the fright, Santana stepped on the crust of ice created by Quinn, slipped and fell into the water. At least, that caused the block of ice to break and start down the gentle stream.

"Santana! Are you okay?" Quinn tried to help her friend. Only then did she attempt the presence of the neighbor. "Hello?" Quinn said looking at the man in his fifties who looked like a lumberjack.

"Is everything okay there?" The man asked.

"Yes..." Santana replied as she got to her feet again. Her clothes were soaked and dripping cold. "I slipped."

"You're the new neighbors, right?"

"Yes. We moved some time ago." Quinn replied.

"Okay..." The man looked uncertain, but at least he understood that the two young women didn't want confusion or hang out with him. "My name is Sheldon Beiste." The man held out his hand.

"Quinn Fabray." Santana greeted her neighbor. "This is Santana Lopez."

"Nice to meet you... well, you'd better change these clothes, Lopez. You can get a bad cold."

"Right…Thanks."

Beiste walked away, showing that he was there to check the movement. He didn't look like he wanted confusion, at least for now. Santana removed her soaked jacket, leaving only her T-shirt and jogger pants on. The two young women replaced the sneakers and walked back to the cabin.

"Quinn, I need to entrust you with something," Santana said uncertainly, almost embarrassed.

"What?" Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"Jenny texted me. She's coming to town."

"Oh." Quinn rolled her eyes. A vigilante's life wouldn't be complete without love problems in addition to all the others they had to deal with. "What are you going to do with your mistress?"

"The problem is not Marley. She and I are just fooling around, and there's nothing seriously going on between us. The problem is my girlfriend. Since you are the only one who has seen Marley and I together, I wonder if I can count on your discretion?"

"Of course."

"Thanks."

"Lopez?"

"Yes?"

"If you are clearly enthusiastic about this relationship with Marley, and your official relationship is clearly not working, why do you continue with this story?"

"Because Jenny can do some heavy shit if she wants, and she knows my double identity. I'm afraid of what might happen if the truth comes out in the wrong way." Santana sighed. "Don't you think that I have made a thousand and one plans yet, and I've tried a thousand and one ways to try to break up with Jenny. But I can never find the opening and the right time. As much as I treat her badly or indifferently, Jenny never breaks up with me. It's annoying."

"Try to be monogamous next time. It's easier."

"With the right person, it must be." Santana folded her arms and jumped for warmth. "Have you talked to Rachel?"

Quinn almost laughed at the question. The right person for Santana would be the girl who wasn't even gay. Quinn thought that maybe Rachel wasn't even bisexual or a fluid person as people likes to say about themselves to not use some brand. But you can not choose who you love, right?

"No, I haven't heard from her in a long time. Maybe Kurt Hummel has."

"Right… what about Matt? How is he?" Santana tried to disguise.

"He sends messages whenever he can. He is fine."

"You must be missing him, right?"

Quinn nodded. But she frowned at the realization that she missed her friend more than her boyfriend.


	3. Chapter 3

Jenny arrived at the regional airport around 10 a.m. She was received by anyone. The young woman picked up her own luggage and crossed the landing-hall to the outer public area with the expression of few friends. She took an Uber toward the small studio apartment she used to occupy whenever she was in town, located on a valued area near the university campus. Jenny entered her small comfortable apartment and left her luggage in the middle of the room, took off her heeled shoes and threw herself into the neat bed. Everything was very clean and organized thanks to the cleaning company who hired to do the service once a week. It was a high cost to keep a good in the city that she only had one important subject: her girlfriend with super powers by whom she was obsessed.

Jenny ran a hand through her hair and sighed. She rubbed her own shoulders and closed her eyes. Then she reached for her bag and took the cell phone out and dialed it fast.

" _Jenny? Hi?_ " Jenny heard the deep voice respond. She thought Santana's voice was sexy even when her girlfriend was casual.

"Hi San. Where are you?"

" _Working in the office. Making a mockup, actually._ "

"Really?" Jenny smiled. "Can't you show your projects in 3D by computer?"

" _There are customers who are old-school._ " There was a noise, as if the phone had dropped. " _Sorry... So, have you arrived?_ "

"Yes, I'm in my apartment resting a little. How about lunch together?"

" _Fine to me, but I can't stay long. I have afternoon classes._ "

"Sometimes I forget you're still a college girl." Jenny smiled. "You're so busy with your double life." Santana didn't respond, if they were talking to the screen activated, Jenny would have seen the girlfriend roll her eyes.

" _Jen, I need to go, okay? Send a message with the address of the restaurant that you want to go. I'll meet you there._ "

"OK, I love you."

"Goodbye."

It was something that frustrated Jenny. Of her always say that she loved Santana, but didn't get back the answer she wanted so badly to hear again. The 24-year-old was compared to the beauty of the young Julia Roberts and wasn't stupid. She was a promising young businesswoman, busy, from a rich, traditional family who fairly accepted the fact that she was a lesbian - as long as she didn't become a butch or relate to such types, as she once heard from her mother. Not that masculine-looking lesbians attracted her.

Jenny wasn't fooled by her girlfriend's disinterest and rudeness. She also knew that fidelity wasn't Santana's strongest virtue. To be fair, she also allowed herself to enjoy a casual good fuck outside this relationship when she had the opportunity and the desire. But then why was she still with the vigilante? Not even Jenny could explain the crazy attraction she felt for Santana, nor the strong desire to tame her, as if Santana were a pure blood mare that needed to be tamed. It was a desire so strong that only in thinking of trying to subdue Santana could she feel the moisture between her legs. She thought about what she was going to do for lunch and sent the message.

...

Rachel arrived at the city bus station that morning. She got off the bus and looked at the uninteresting landscape. There was no one waiting for her, neither her parents, nor Kurt, none of the vigilantes or her older friends. The reason was plausible, however: Rachel was coming by surprise to the city.

"Every bus station smells like pee," Brody said as he got off the bus after her friend. "It's definitely proven." He was kind enough to carry Rachel's luggage, leaving her friend carrying her backpack. "Where are we going?"

"To my parents' house, I suppose."

They took the taxi service and followed in comfortable silence on the way. Brody was looking curiously at the city that presented itself. It was exactly as he imagined it to be: a city center with tall buildings and the rest of it consisting of residential houses and small, low-rise buildings most of the time. The exception was the six 15-story buildings that made up the housing estate in the city's poorest neighborhood.

"The university campus is beautiful," Rachel told her friend. "I'm going to take you to the park that is close to downtown. I don't have many pleasant memories there, but at least it's a place to see in this city."

More silence until arrival in the upper middle class neighborhood. Rachel and Brody got out of the cab and got their luggage. Rachel lingered for a moment before she rang the bell. It wasn't that she had cut off relationships with her parents again, but it was frustrating to return home, even temporarily, without finding happiness, even managing to work on what she liked. Maybe it was the harsh reality of the big city, maybe it was because she had managed to establish herself as a second-tier actress in a year, maybe it was frustration that she had fallen into some pitfalls and ended up having as best friend an actor who also who was prostituting himself. Rachel rang the bell. Nothing. She went to the garage and peered into the small window, and saw that only one car was in the garage, which meant that one of the parents was definitely out. Maybe Leroy was at home, but in the studio producing some publicity jingle.

Rachel picked up her cell phone and called Hiram first.

" _Hello Rachel._ " The man answered.

"Hi dad, where are you?"

" _I'm at a free show here in Aria._ "

"Is Daddy with you?"

" _Yes. Do you want to speak to him?_ "

"Not. Just say I sent a kiss to him."

" _Ok baby girl, are you okay?_ "

"Yes dad. I am fine. I just to want to know what are you doing."

" _Well, we will spend three days here. Your daddy is so stressed that I think this little break will do good to him._ "

"Of course. Hey dad, I need to go. I speak with you to soon."

" _Ok baby girl. Be well_."

"Bye."

Rachel hung up and smiled at her friend.

"They're out of town."

"Looks like we stayed outside." Brody put a hand on Rachel's shoulder to comfort her.

"Not necessarily." Rachel opened her backpack and took out a bundle of keys. "I still have my copy."

As she opened the door, she looked at the spacious, always-organized house. Rachel went straight to her own room and left the luggage, only to pay attention to the special guest. She indicated the guest room, the same as a little more than a year ago she slept with Santana after helping the vigilante to flee police.

"This is a family of vegetarians. I hope you don't mind." Rachel said as she led her friend into the kitchen. She knew Brody could hardly spare a good steak.

"So your family has money..." Brody said as he accepted Rachel's sandwich: one for him, two for her. Brody had grown accustomed to the amount of food Rachel ate, even though she was a small, thin woman. "They could help you live in a better place than that hole, right?"

"As I told you once, it's complicated. I've been independent of them for so long that I don't think I can ask for that kind of help anymore."

"You're very proud. If my parents had money, I wouldn't hesitate."

"Would you stop doing... your extra work?"

"Possibly."

Although Rachel knew about the prostitution that Brody underwent, she knows he hates to talk about it. As much as he said he didn't judge anyone, and he was well settled as to the condition, it was obvious to be in such a life the fair and he didn't like to touch the subject, especially with the girl he really cared.

"What do you have to do in this city at night?" Brody asked, trying to change the subject.

"Basically there are the bars, the amateur theater must be with some play running... ah, we can go to the university campus to see if there is a party going on. There's often something going on: a party, some local band show, stuff like that."

"Let's explore then."

"Yes, let's explore a bit."

...

Santana forced a smile when she saw Jenny sitting in the restaurant they agreed to meet. She kissed her girlfriend quickly on the lips before she sat down.

"Did you have a good trip?" Santana said and then smiled at the waiter who handed her the menu.

"Nothing but routine." Jenny became indifferent. "Actually, I was hoping we could spend the day together."

"I have class this afternoon."

"Can't you miss it?"

"Missing the class for the final exam? No way!"

"You can't go out with me, but if you were to do something about your other identity, I bet you would have time."

"If I were doing something using my other identity, it would be because there would be an emergency or a very serious matter to address, Jen. Do not confuse things." Santana said between her teeth. "You know I don't like to discuss my other identity like this and in public places."

"You're paranoid, Santana."

"You're an egocentric no-no, Jennifer."

"Do you want to order now?" The waiter interrupted, and for the vigilante, his action came in good time.

The lunch followed tense, in silence, showing that this situation was becoming unbearable and unsustainable for Santana. If she ever came to love Jenny, the answer was yes, after all, it was almost four years in a relationship full of ups and downs. But did she still love Jenny? Not anymore, and it was time. Caring for Jenny was far from similar to some form of love. Santana kissed her girlfriend without passion, sex was almost automatic, not to mention Jenny's authoritative rantings whenever they were together. And all for what? To protect a secret? To keep Jenny silent? Not even that reason seemed more insufficient at the time.

"I need to go to class." Santana left 50 bucks on the table and got up, but Jenny stopped her by grabbing her arm.

"Wait! I said I paid for our lunch... besides, I do not want to see you leave here in anger. Sorry OK?"

Santana sighed and sat down again. She saw an opportunity and maybe she should take advantage of it.

"Jenny... we should to take a look at what's happening to us..."

"I know. You are stressed out by the end of college, with your new job and that other job. It's a lot of things together." Jenny said more gently, tenderly.

"It's not like that."

"You know what we could do?" Jenny said more forcefully. "There's going to be this rock concert in the park tonight. You love rock concerts. I think we should go. It will do you good. We can have some beer, music, dance a little... make love later at home."

"Okay..." Santana sighed defeated once more.

"It's a date. I'll step into your dormitory nine o'clock at night, that's ok?" Jenny returned the money to her girlfriend and kissed her hand. "You're just tired, San. Let's get through this phase together."

Santana didn't answer. She just noted and accepted the caress before she left. The vigilante wasn't lying when she said she really needed to study. It was said that the last semester of college was the most stressful and it seemed to be true. And Jenny made a correct reading: the accumulation of activities was doing her wrong. What Jenny didn't take into consideration was that their relationship was also a stress factor. But she wouldn't admit it.

...

Rachel stared at the list of contacts and more than once was reluctant to fire any of them. There was no recent message. The last one she received was from Kurt from two weeks earlier, in which her friend commented perplexed about the fact that he and Blaine had begun dating despite all the differences. Rachel was happy for her friend. Despite the little contact she had with Blaine, he was a talented and nice guy. But behold, Rachel was back in town, and no one but Brody knew. She would appear in places, be seen by acquaintances, speak with friends, knew it was a matter of time. So why such a lack of will?

"We have three options," Brody said while browsing the blog with cultural reports. "There is a play in the amateur theater called Brasilia 80, there is a karaoke bar that is doing a competition, and there is a rock concert called Mangue Bit Sessions and Other Covers. It seems like it's in that park you want to show me."

"Or we can stay and watch a movie."

"Boring!" Brody tried to tweak Rachel. "Come on, Rach. You need to get out of this mess. Did you come here to make peace with your monsters or to isolate yourself in a cocoon? If so, you had better stay in the metropolis."

"Then let's go to the park."

It was a relatively simple option to choose because, in the dark, the likelihood of bumping into known people is lower. In addition, she knew that the old friends were staging the play in amateur theater, and that there was a high possibility of finding people from the old community college in a karaoke competition.

...

"Are you sure you don't want to go?" Santana asked Mercedes still in the dormitory that the two still shared: a rare feat among fellow college students.

"San, my friend, I would love to witness to your despair at having to be with Jenny, but I have a date."

"Oh!" Santana smiled. "Is it just with that reporter you've been smiling over the last few weeks?"

"It just is."

Santana was genuinely happy for Mercedes. The reporter was a man of Peruvian descent who critiqued gastronomy and covered cultural events. But apparently the rock festival wasn't on his agenda.

"Well, if that's the case, have fun, do not forget to use a condom, and if he cooks, bring some for me."

Santana smiled at her friend as she dressed for the meeting. She chose the simplest clothes combination: slim jeans, black blouse, boot and coat. No backpack, no vigilante was scheduled to patrol on that day. The action against the arms dealer group and against Big Sea were too recent, and whenever an action with media repercussions happened, the police used to double the patrol in the streets by a few days, which made the movement of the vigilantes more delicate. It was better to get out of circulation a little before returning to patrols and investigations.

Santana knew that Artie would try to go to the festival together with that colleague who could invent everything. That Quinn would probably stay in the cabin with Beth. Marley? Santana had exchanged a few messages throughout the day explaining that Jenny was in town, but she had no idea what the other girlfriend would do.

She heard the cellphone alert. It was Jenny saying she had arrived. Santana said goodbye to Mercedes and went down to the parking lot. Jenny had a compact car at her disposal whenever she was in town, or when she decided to go to the metropolis on the highway. Santana opened the passenger door and stepped inside.

"Hi." Santana said before kissing her girlfriend on the lips. She intended to be quick, trivial, but Jenny held her and deepened the kiss. Despite all the problems of the relationship, Santana had to admit that she and Jenny had sexual chemistry and fit together. "Wow!" Santana said after breaking the kiss. "Are you sure you want to go to the rock concert?"

"I said, kisses, beer, music, dance and then sex. I will fulfill my itinerary."

"It's all right. It's just that the park is so close from here, why don't we leave the car parked here and walk?"

"The concert is in the southern part of the park."

"And?"

"Put your belt on. Not everyone is at your disposal to walk or run."

Santana rolled her eyes. The southern part of the park was closest to where Rachel lived. There was a pavilion in the area that used to house concerts and midsize events, and also a large parking lot. Jenny basically went around the park area to the venue. It didn't even spend five minutes. Santana wasn't surprised when Jenny pulled her into some kind of VIP entry. She had imagined that Jennifer would never be at a festival like this if it weren't for a special credential.

The VIP entry was at the side of the stage. With the credential, it was possible to circulate in the dressing room area, in the space immediately in front of the stage, and to a lounge with small tables and puffs. The festival had already started and the second band was on stage. Jenny wasn't very interested in music, but in socializing. She went to the food truck that served the VIP area and bought two cups of beer. Santana let Jenny do what she pleased. The important thing was that the music was good and the beer was cold.

"Look who's here!" Jenny approached a group. "I don't believe!"

Santana felt the pressure drop a little when she realized Marley was in the group. Sometimes even she forgot that the other girlfriend had another social group before engaging with the vigilantes. She saw Marley greet Jenny and then face her.

"Hi Marley, how are you?" Santana greeted her politely, kissing her on the cheek, then forced a smile.

"Oh, that's right! I had forgotten that you knew Rose." Jenny commented in an affected way.

Jenny knew that Marley was Fish's protégé and that the girl knew Santana. But the last time the three of them had been together in the same place, Santana and Marley hadn't had sex yet. The vigilante tried to disguise it, but the truth was that she was tense. It was not that Marley was going to say anything, because she was discreet and aware of the situation, yet it wasn't at all comfortable. Especially when Jenny decided to hug Santana by her waist and kiss her on the lips in front of Marley.

"Jen... why don't we go to the stage for a bit? I want to see the bands." Santana suggested more to have an excuse to get away from Marley and the discomfort of the situation.

The couple of girlfriends walked hand in hand to the part in front of the stage intended for the VIP audience. The band was great, had a lot of energy and presence. They covered a classic that Santana loved. Of course, Santana hugged her girlfriend from behind and began to rock to the music.

" _Quando a maré encher, quando a maré encher/ Vou tomar banho de canal quando a maré encher"_ (1)

Losing herself in the beat of strong drums and distorted guitar helped to improve her mood. Santana was breaking loose in the strong beat of the song. She needed some of that, of not having to think about anything. Just let the body react. And so it went on for three more songs, until Jenny pulled her out of the trance and pulled her back to the lounge in the VIP area to buy more liquor. They saw the show again, this time Jenny wanted to join Marley's group of rich friends. The band continued with the strong, dancing, engaging sound, but Santana's enthusiasm subsided. The truth is she was feeling like a jerk.

"Wants to know? I think I'll take a walk around the common area. There are some stalls behind." Santana excused herself. "If you want, you can stay, Jen. I just want to walk around a bit."

"I'll go with you, babe."

"No need. I know you want to stay here."

"I'll go with you," Jenny said determinedly.

Beyond the area where people concentrated to see the concert; there were a number of stalls selling food, drinks, and other things, such as hippie clothes, bottoms, and imitation jewelry.

"The food court here is so much better!" Santana smiled and it was Jenny's turn to roll her eyes. But at one point the girlfriend was right: the variety of the common area was much more interesting than the chic food truck of the VIP area.

Santana brightened up a little again. She bought a giant hamburger, which left her girlfriend impressed and jealous of not being able to consume the same. Jenny bought a vodka hit. After satisfying the stomach and cheer up more, Santana took her girlfriend's hand and walked with her through the stalls. She wasn't interested in anything, she just liked the environment, to see people walking around, dating, or hunting to find someone. Santana liked to see the groups of friends, the music in the background, the scream of the audience, and didn't even bother with the smell of marijuana.

Still holding hands with Jenny, Santana saw a person who was also circling there. She thought she was seeing a mirage. She dropped Jenny's hand and went to the person in question. She stopped in front of the girl and barely believed what she was seeing.

"Rachel?"

First came the shock, and then the disbelief. It seemed that this park had a very strange energy, capable of bringing together Rachel and Santana in different situations. At least that was neither life nor death, or violence.

"Santana... I..." The actress was surprised by the vigilante's hug.

"Are you real?" Santana whispered into Rachel's ear when her gesture was matched.

"Apparently." Rachel smiled. Meeting with someone you know, especially Santana, wasn't so bad.

"Since when did you get back?" Santana broke her embrace and held the actress's hand, completely ignoring Brody and Jenny's presence.

"This morning."

"Wow... you never called again, you didn't send a message in about six months! What happened?"

"I guess this is not the best way to get the conversation up to date." Rachel waved her hands to Santana's girlfriend. "Hi, Jenny. How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you." Jenny just nodded.

"This is Brody, my friend and playmate."

"Hey!" Brody smiled at the two young women.

"Honey, I think we can invite Rachel and her friend out with us or maybe lunch tomorrow or later. But I would like to go back to the VIP area."

"Of course..." Santana began to come back to herself, reading the situation. "Rachel and... Brody, we can arrange a date. Can I call you tomorrow? Is your phone number the same?"

"Actually, I changed the number. But I still have yours. I'll get in touch, Santana. Promise."

"OK. See you." She hugged Rachel one more time.

The casual encounter with Rachel completely changed Jenny's mood. Upon returning to the VIP area, Santana stood in front of the stage, while Jenny preferred to go to the lounge and bought another drink. She found Marley sitting in one of the pews. Jenny pulled up a bench and sat down next to the assistant.

"How long have you been fucking my girlfriend?" Jenny asked Marley, who choked on the direct approach.

"What is it? Santana and I are..."

"Cut the crap, Rose. Your reaction, the discomfort, was very much in the face. Santana lies very badly, and you don't seem to be better. Besides, I know very well who I'm dealing with."

"Jenny... look..."

"It doesn't matter. Not when her sweetheart just got into town."

"Who?"

"Rachel Berry, the amateur drama actress. Didn't you know? Apparently the only woman Santana didn't deliberately attempt to fuck because she was in love."

"Is Rachel Berry in town?"

"You're slow, aren't you, Rose?"

Santana approached the lounge because she was looking for a chemical toilet. In the distance she saw Marley and Jenny talking. Santanha was seriously worried.


	4. Chapter 4

Santana sat up in bed and stretched. She looked at her company next to her still sleeping. She got up and went straight to the shower. She closed her eyes and let the warm water run down her body, washed her face, her private parts and cleaned herself. Jenny had the best soaps, shampoos and creams. She was always perfumed, and that was something Santana admired in her girlfriend. The vigilante dried herself and put on Jenny's clothes, taking advantage of the fact that they wore similar sizes of clothes. Santana's clothes were dirty, smelling of cigarettes, sweat and alcohol because of the rock concert the night before. She stuffed everything and put it in a plastic bag to take to the dormitory and wash afterwards. She chose an old T-shirt (or the older one Jenny would allow herself to keep in the wardrobe) and a pair of sweatpants that Santana used to use when sleeping with her girlfriend. She took some money from her wallet and went down to the cafeteria that was just down the street from Jenny's building. She bought two cups of coffee and two stuffed breads. Jenny was awake when she returned with breakfast. Her girlfriend, still naked, got up, put on her robe without bothering to close it, and went to Santana, giving her a wet kiss.

"Good morning!" Jenny said happily. "Black coffee?"

"No sugar." Santana nodded. Jenny liked her bitter drink, unlike Santana who loved all the mixes that could be put into a coffee: chocolate, milk, whipped cream and everything. "Aren't you going to take a shower? I'll wait for you."

"Are you calling me stinky?"

"I am!" Santana smiled. "That's what happens when you get in a rock concert and go straight to bed."

"Not to mention the orgasm between one thing and another." Jenny kissed her girlfriend's lips and went to wash herself.

Santana sighed as she waited for Jenny to do her own hygiene. She lay on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. She thought about the night before. She thought of the discomfort that led to Jenny's encounter with Marley, but above all else, she thought of Rachel. She was back in town apparently with a boyfriend. Santana speculated that perhaps it was because of him that Rachel had stopped responding to the messages, and when she did, they were vague, hurried responses. And so it was until the communications between them ceased to exist. Then, just over a year after the last time she saw Rachel, there was the diva in full splendor back in town. Why?

"Where's my coffee?" Jenny came out of the bathroom with her hair still wet and now properly in her dressing gown.

Santana got up once more to have breakfast with her girlfriend. She was silent as she ate the stuffed bread, and noticed that her girlfriend didn't touch her food.

"Won't you eat?" Santana frowned. That stuffed bread has always been one of Jenny's favorites.

"I'm on a diet."

"Eat at least half of it. You drank too much yesterday and you can't stay on an empty stomach." Santana spread the bread and took the other half. Her body would process everything in an instant, anyway.

"That's why I like you. You're always taking care of me!" Santana shrugged off Jenny's compliment. "What are we doing today?"

"I need to practice. We can arrange something else at night."

"Aren't you going to patrol?"

"Not as a vigilante. My last action is too fresh and you know the police hates me."

"I'd like to go with you this time, if you're going to walk undercover in the city."

"It's dangerous, Jenny."

"But you used to walk with that Rachel, weren't you? Wasn't it dangerous for her too?"

Santana ran a hand over her face and sighed deeply. There was that story again.

"I never wanted to involve Rachel in any of that. The bridge incident was a coincidence."

"But I'm your girlfriend and I know your secret. Shouldn't you include me more?"

"No. Because it's dangerous and because I like you."

"So the fact that you got Rachel involved was because you don't like her?"

"Couldn't we eat in peace?" Santana was desperate to get out of that apartment and the interrogation.

"Since when did you know Marley Rose?"

Santana closed her eyes and prepared for the bomb explosion.

"Grant Fish was a friend of mine. I know Marley because of him. What about you?"

"Common friends." Jenny tossed the coffee. "Did you know she's even aborted?"

"That's none of our business."

"Aren't you against abortion?"

"I am Catholic."

"And lesbian."

"So what? It doesn't change the fact that I grew up in the Catholic church, made first communion, and believed in some of the church's dogmas."

"Some of the dogmas. Not all of them."

"So what? I have critical sense. I don't need to accept everything to be Catholic. And what is the point of this conversation?"

"Tell me, Santana. What your Catholic church says about the commandment not to desire the wife of the neighbor?"

"Do you want me to throw in your face that I slept with Marley? Don't you?"

"Did you sleep with her?"

"Yes!" Santana said in a rush, and it was as if a huge weight had come out of her chest. "I slept with Marley. More than once, if you want to know."

The slap that Santana received on her face was even expected. Much better than if Jenny had decided to throw the coffee. Santana didn't react. The slap itself didn't hurt. Her pride, on the other hand, was a little hurt.

"I think that puts an end to our relationship, doesn't it?"

"I think so. You were the one who was trying to get rid of me all this time. Wants to know? I don't need this shit, Santana Lopez. You're free to sleep with all the sluts you want."

"You knew this wouldn't work, Jenny. It hadn't been working for years. The fact that I am sleeping with Marley is a reflection of that. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all of this. I loved you once, and I'm sorry that this feeling didn't last."

"Get out of here, Lopez. Get out now!"

"Once I wash, I'll return your clothes." She nodded to Jenny, picked up her cell phone and her bag of dirty clothes.

"Don't bother, Lopez."

"Jenny... about my other identity..."

"Do not worry, I'm not going to tell the authorities you're the dumb vigilante."

"Thank you." Santana nodded before leaving the apartment.

When the door closed, Jenny glared.

"I won't tell... yet..."

...

"Sorry to bother you," Santana said quietly as she got into Marley's car. "But my car is with Fabray and I don't think it's cool to be taking Uber to the cabin."

"No need to justify yourself, Lopez. I'm paid for it." Marley started the car and drove toward the cabin.

Santana shook her head. It wasn't true that Marley was paid to do private favors to any vigilante. Her functions were very clear in the "contract": asset management. The aid in the patrols was at her risk. As much as the favor to get Santana in her dormitory and take her to the cabin.

"Sorry for the embarrassment yesterday. I've never imagined that we would met there."

"I was aware of the nature of our relationship." Marley's voice was as cold as Quinn Fabray's hands.

"What did Jenny say to you yesterday?"

"I'm not in the mood to talk about it."

"Whatever it is, I'm sorry. A thousand apologies."

"Santana..."

"Jenny and I broke up this morning."

"What? Do you want me to give thanks to God? May I fall to my knees and thank for now our relationship is possible or official?"

"I'm sorry. I know we've come to terms, Marley. But I still have to apologize for anything Jenny might have talked to you about. I know you didn't deserve to hear who knows what Jenny said. I know it wasn't a good thing, because I know her very well."

Marley took the stop at the traffic light to close her eyes and squeeze them a little.

"I slept with my friend, Ryder, this morning. We agreed on an open relationship, didn't we? I hope you're not upset." Marley said with such irony that Santana could feel the taste of gall in the words.

Santana was speechless. As much as she'd told Marley that it was all right if she had a relationship with other people, since the vigilante herself already had a girlfriend, it hurt a lot. That too, in a way, caught Santana by surprise. Maybe she was emotionally involved with Marley more than she wanted to. Faced with the mass silence, Santana decided to turn on the car radio. There was a song from Anitta. It made her even more irritable. She changed seasons, but nothing pleased her. The vigilante preferred to turn the sound off. Marley didn't object either. As they reached the cabin, Santana got out of the car and was surprised that Marley hadn't turned off the engine.

"Aren't you coming?" Santana asked. She was surprised because she hoped Marley would at least greet Quinn and Beth.

"No," Marley replied dryly. "Tell Quinn I said hello."

Santana closed the car door and walked away. Marley maneuvered and drive back onto the little dirt road leading to the cabin. Santana was desolate, with no ground. Breaking up with Jenny was harder than she thought it would be, even though she knew the relationship was doomed from the start. Taking a cold shoulder from Marley was also bad, especially because of the state of emotional fragility that the vigilante was in.

There was no need to knock on the door. Quinn was on the porch of the cabin with Beth right behind her. Santana grinned and went to the occupants of the place.

"Good Morning!"

"Things don't seem to go well with you." Quinn raised her infamous eyebrow. "What did you get up to this time?"

"I did nothing."

"And I'm the queen of China."

"China is not a monarchy."

"Exact!"

Santana shook her head in disbelief. It was amazing how the world went around. When she could expect that of all people, Quinn would have become one of the best friends she ever had. A true friend. Even though Quinn had a breathtaking beauty, Santana was more interested in Quinn's unique ability to look around and be frank about it.

"You know, Lopez, Beth and I were having lunch. You can help by setting the table and then we can talk. "

"Thanks."

"Feel at home... by the way... the house is yours."

...

"Come on, Fabray!" Santana blocked another blow from her colleague with ease. "You can give more than that."

"I don't have super strength!" Quinn raged. She wasn't holding on, because she knew Santana could handle whatever force she put in the blow. The question was really physical and technical. Quinn had trained for self-defense for months, but she still couldn't be as good as she liked to be.

"And neither is Batman!"

Quinn rolled her eyes and Santana saw that the joke had no effect. She then sighed, put her hands on her waist and tried to relax a little. They were in the area near the cabin, being watched closely by Beth. Quinn needed to practice and develop both powers and fighting skills, especially if she wanted to help more with the patrols. But the question went far beyond that: Santana felt responsible for the safety of Quinn and all the others. Everything was much easier and simpler when it was just her hitting some bad guys. How did everything get so complex? Worst of all, she felt a tremendous lack of Grant. And a tremendous anger. How could he leave such responsibility to her?

"Try to cool your body," Santana instructed.

"Why?"

"Because it hurts a lot more if you hit with your frozen hands. Also, I get the impression that you gain physical vigor when you're cold."

Quinn concentrated. Her eyes went gray and a thin crust of ice enveloped her hands. Then she returned to the position of attack and repeated the routine that Santana had taught her. Quinn had to admit that she really moved better when she cooed her own body. It felt like it had gotten lighter and faster. In fact, the contact of Quinn's frozen hand to Santana's warm skin was much more painful.

Santana spent the afternoon training with Quinn. They started with a quick weight-training, then made a quick run around the hut area and finished with the fight training, in which Santana taught a little more the correct way to move, to strike, to defend herself with her own fists.

"Haven't you ever tried to project energy?" Santana questioned.

"It can't."

"But you cool down the environment around you. This is projection of energy."

"It's no use, Lopez. I'm not like Elsa, if that's what you're thinking."

"It would be very useful."

"Do want to know? I'm tired and devil hungry." Quinn walked into the cabin, hugging Beth on the way, raising her daughter and swaying her, teasing the girl. "How about a super waffle, kid?"

"With blueberry jelly."

"Exactly."

Santana watched from a respectful distance the mother-daughter interaction. After a whole afternoon of training, snacking wouldn't be bad at all. Being able to eat at all and without restrictions definitely was one of the best things about having special skills. Quinn kept the promise to her daughter: she made a bunch of waffles while Santana and Beth helped set the table. They ate while chatting amenities such as the Disney movies and Beth's activities at school. The girl seemed to have no need to go back to the old neighborhood, and the fact that she still studied at the same school helped a lot, because she didn't lose contact with her colleagues. Just stopped being their neighbor. In addition, the new "house" had plenty of space, two stories, a new bedroom far larger than the tiny space it occupied before, and the "backyard" was huge.

At the end of dinner, and washing all the dishes, the three went to bathe. Santana always kept two or three changes of clothes in the cabin, stored in her bedroom, along with toiletries. Already in clean clothes and refreshed body, Santana went downstairs and sat down on the couch. She checked her cell phone and answered a few messages from Mercedes, Artie, and from work. She also saw that her friends hadn't advanced in investigations into the main case, but Mercedes made an update regarding the consequences of the Big Sea jail. It looked like the old neighborhood where Quinn lived claiming the neighbor's dealer. Something that Santana would have to take action soon, to stop the rise of a new little crime king.

But there was nothing about Rachel, Marley or Jenny. This frustrated her. Jenny and Marley wouldn't even want to talk to her. But what about Rachel? After the totally casual meeting the night before, she thought her friend would at least send a little message. On the other hand, how to charge if even the vigilante didn't do it? For total lack of time after a busy day, the answer was obvious. Maybe Rachel's day had been busy too.

"Beth is already in her bedroom. She must get some sleep soon enough", Quinn said as she walked down the stairs. "Now we can talk about your love affairs." She sat down on the couch beside her friend. "Just a little recap: you broke up with Jenny, Marley is fucking with you and Rachel is in town. Watching your life makes me thank for my boring and tedious relationship at a distance with Matt."

"I envy you exactly because of that, Fabray. But don't think I'm looking for that kind of problem." Seeing Quinn's face, Santana reshaped herself. "Okay, maybe I've been looking for that sort of problem when Marley and I started this thing. But in my defense, I just agreed to stay with Jenny for all those reasons you already know. You couldn't carry it all any longer. Having a relationship with Jenny was unbearable."

"Is that why you looked for Marley in the first place?"

"It was casual. All those patrol nights with her being the watchtower... it ended up happing. But she always knew about my relationship with Jenny, and we agreed to keep this relationship... casual and open. That I would never blame her if she got involved with someone else. But yesterday we had this rock festival in the park. Jenny pointed out that there was an atmosphere of embarrassment between Marley and me, and she turned on the stitches. I don't know what she said to Marley, but it must have been something very bad for her to start feeling so angry at me and to end the night sleeping with a guy."

"Oh!" Quinn made a face of pain. "You screwed up everything. Honestly, I wouldn't mind if that mess of yours didn't risk splattering on me. But if you want to know? You're not the victim here. In fact, none of you are. Jenny stayed with you even knowing all along that you didn't love her. Marley agreed to sleep with you knowing about Jenny. And you're an arrogant womanizer. In fact, you need to act like any normal person and learn to live one relationship at a time."

"Believe it or not, Fabray, but the time I want to sleep with a lot of girls in college has gone. I do not think about it anymore. My priorities at this moment are, in this order, the vigilantes, our mission, practicing, my job, because otherwise I can't pay my bills. Relationships are not even in the top 10 of my list."

"I'm glad I'm a priority for you since I'm on the team."

"Why do you think I gave you my car?"

Quinn nodded and thanked her silently for the vote of confidence.

"If you want to know, Santana, here's what I would do. I would call Jenny and take all the blame. I would make it clear I wouldn't want to come back, but it's a matter of making her think who's on top. Then I would call Marley and invite her to a conversation in an interesting place. I'd play fair with her. I mean, if I wanted to continue this roll, I'd take up the courtship and get rid of this open relationship jokes. I'd stay away from Rachel too."

"It's not that simple. Rachel is one of us."

"Just because she has powers doesn't mean she's one of us. It's been a year since she stopped being one of us."

"It's not that simple. It's not black on white."

"Of course it's not simple. But there comes a time when you need to make demarcations. Either Rachel is a team or she is not. If you want to know my opinion? She is not. Rachel spent a year trying to be an actress while we spent a year grating our asses to make this city less dangerous."

"I think you're right."

"Obviously I am." Quinn winked at Santana. "Would you like a beer to end the night?"

...

Kurt couldn't stop looking sideways at Brody. He stirred impatiently with his cup of coffee. He turned from one side to the other, as if trying to make the ceramic cup absorb all the discomfort he felt. Blaine, beside him at the table, talked about the metropolis, and how he himself wanted to venture out into the city in the summer. Blaine decided to spend a gap year before going to college. He and Kurt lived together in a small apartment, not unlike the one Kurt shared with Rachel. Kurt began to invest in the career of personal stylist, worked part time as a salesman in a clothing store and, finally, went to the amateur theater twice a week. It was a life different from Blaine, who became a regular, weekly attraction in a town bar, and tried to invest in his own music. From a wealthy family, Blaine still traveled whenever possible to any part of the world, and was still able to bear the cost of his boyfriend.

"Many of our friends also sing in pubs to supplement the income." Brody was talking to Blaine. "I even have a very close colleague, an exceptional guitarist, who every Sunday at the fair. He even gets some nice tips."

"I wish this were more common here. I know some guys who invest in this kind of thing, more for the pleasure, but the potential audience is too small."

Kurt finally knocked the cup down, spilling the contents across the table, which, to his own misfortune, fell more into his clothes. The others began picking up napkins to contain the damage. Rachel didn't. She could be a million years without speaking to her best friend, but she would never forget what lay behind certain mannerisms. She needed to talk alone with her friend, without Blaine and without Brody.

"Kurt, if we go a little outside, it'll help dry our clothes a little." Rachel made up the excuse and the friend agreed.

They left Blaine and Brody at the table and left the cafeteria that was close to community college. It was possible to see the bookstore where Quinn worked, as well as the movement in front of the college of all young people who either weren't accepted in better universities or simply didn't have the money to pay for one.

"Is everything okay?" Rachel asked her friend.

"Yes, it is."

"You hated Brody, didn't you?" Rachel gave a small smile.

"Oh, my God, Rach, what are you thinking? Surely, he is handsome, and I don't doubt he has other attractive qualities between four walls, but you have nothing in common with each other."

"Brody is just my friend. The only one I did in that city... "

"Is he only your friend?"

"What difference does it make, Kurt?"

Kurt didn't have an answer. Maybe he was in such a position because he didn't like Brody, and also because he wasn't used to seeing Rachel with anyone other than Finn (or the vigilante).

"Excuse me. I think I'm a little bitter because you didn't let me know you were coming back. We always talked to each other, and when you left without me, it really hurt. I confess that I twisted a little so that you failed miserably."

Rachel stared at her in bewilderment. On the next shelf, she burst into laughter. Obviously Kurt would turn against, because in the game of divas, deep down one always wants the other to twist the ankle. Rachel's laughter made Kurt confused for a second. But only for a second. Then he began to laugh along with his longing friend. They ended up hugging each other, showing each other how much they missed their company. And on the roller coaster of emotions, Rachel wept on Kurt's shoulders.

...

"Finn is happy. He's with the football team this weekend. Coach Marion became officially part of the technical team. He and his girlfriend started dating not long after you left. I don't know if he forgot you, but he's at least trying to move on." Kurt said as they talked through the streets. "The others are fine. Puck knocked a girl up, Sam has returned to college, Tina... is out there. She graduates this year, I think. Schuester continues to teach at school."

"How's the new theater group?" Rachel asked as she took the ice cream.

"It's weaker, if you want my opinion. There's only one girl, Jane, who's promising. The others won't pass amateurism. There is no one else like us."

"Things really change."

"Yes... that's why I ask you and I demand a sincere response this time, Rach. Why did you come back? Don't insist on saying that it is the break between the seasons. I know you. You would never cry on my shoulder if you were not feeling miserable."

"Shelby's company is really very professional, despite being small. The money sucks, but at least it's a salary. The work is hard, Shelby is a tremendous director. I improved 100% under her command. But staying there is not easy. In the first week, one of the company's members, the director of dance and choreography, took me to Christ, to be an example of forced humility. Then came Jesse... whose problem was not exactly him sleeping with me a few times before he dismissed me. What hurt me was that he made me feel special and then crush me on the bottom of his slipper. That's when Brody came to my rescue."

"What's your bid with him?"

"Friendship with benefits."

"Rachel Berry, I never imagined."

"I would get involved with Brody, but he's a tricky guy in that area. In a way it's impossible to try to have a real relationship."

"But you like him?"

"Yes and no. Yes, I do like him, but no, I'm not in love with him. Brody's a good friend, Kurt. He may be a bit full of himself, but he listens to me and tries not to judge me. That's refreshing."

"Are you saying that I judged you?"

"All the time!" Kurt shook his head. To his own shame, he couldn't disagree with his friend. "Brody came with me because he wants to help me with one thing. I need a ground, a balance, and he's here to help me find myself again."

"I'm sorry Rach, that you've been through this. I can't say that I myself am fully happy with Blaine. I mean, Adam left me and Blaine was right there. He's smart, ambitious, talented. I know he's going to leave me soon because I'm an anchor, just as Finn was your anchor for a long time. I don't want to be an anchor for anyone, especially Blaine."

"You should go back to the metropolis with me."

"I don't know, Rach. What would I do there?"

"The question is, what are you doing here? At least there you would be trying, rather than moaning about never having even tried. This is a regret I'll never have."

Kurt pondered for a moment and did a quick review of the mediocre life he wore in town. He might be too comfortable to go anywhere. When did he get to that point?

Kurt and Rachel entered a music store just because they had nothing better to do. Rachel flipped through some scores and didactic material for singing. There was nothing there that couldn't be found in the metropolis. That store was one of Finn's favorites, which left Rachel a little anxious about the possibility of finding her ex-boyfriend. Instead of Finn, she ended up bumping into someone else. One she wouldn't even think about.

"It's not possible!" The woman said rudely. "I must have broken a mirror and thrown the pieces on the cross."

"Oh... Jenny..." Rachel stared at the young woman who was wearing sunglasses. "How are you?"

"You must be enjoying yourself, shouldn't you? All you had to do was show up in the city to make her all confused."

"What? Who are you talking about? Santana?"

Jenny approached Rachel dangerously.

"Don't play dumb. By the way, it's good for you to get out of my way, loser. I know Santana's other identity and everybody knows you're an associate. You'd better keep your both eyes very open or I'll take you both to the hole."

Kurt, who was at a distance that allowed him to observe and hear everything, took the lead of Rachel, even without knowing exactly what Jenny was talking about.

"I think you'd better go away, bitch. Or I'll scratch all your perfect face and make a new cut of your hair with my own nails."

Jenny made a small mention of facing Kurt, but then she stepped back, put a small cynical smile on her face, and turned her back. Kurt sighed and turned to his friend. Rachel was paralyzed.

"Rachel..." Kurt whispered. "Your eyes..."


	5. Chapter 5

Santana was preparing to go out late that afternoon when she received the message from Kurt. The visit to a friend from the college had to wait. She responded quickly and without giving satisfaction to Mercedes, who was next to her in the dormitory at that moment, put on the sneakers, took the backpack and left hurriedly. Santana didn't have the car anymore, but the race wouldn't be long. She crossed the park, that hour was still crowded, and took a shortcut and grabbed a truck that was heading in the desired direction. It was in moments like this that she wished that Artie was close. Flying would be a lot easier than moving around when she was in a hurry. Santana reached the right place and looked for Rachel. There was no one she knew, which made Santana uneasy.

"Santana!"

She glanced toward the voice and saw Blaine in an alley. She ran to him.

"Where is she?"

It was when Santana saw Rachel being supported by Kurt and the same guy who accompanied her on the day of the rock festival. Santana tried to ignore the small male audience. She approached Rachel carefully and brought her hand gently to her friend's face.

"Hi." Santana said in a soft voice. "What's going on, Rach?"

"I've been getting out of control lately," Rachel said, still with her eyes closed. She was trembling.

"Didn't you do the tai chi anymore?"

"Tai chi?" Brody snapped. "Is this girl high? You said she could help, but that sounds like a joke. I would have solved that already! Rachel... let's go."

"Hey, Anderson, why don't you take the hot stuff off me before I lose my temper?" Santana warned.

Blaine and Brody didn't know Santana. They didn't know what she was capable of. Only Kurt had a pretty good idea what his fellow ex-amateur theater colleague was capable of.

"Blaine, Brody, please get out of here."

"Rachel?" Brody insisted. "I'll just get out of here if you ask."

"Go away, Brody." Rachel said with her eyes still closed.

It was as if Brody had his face slapped. As if he had been betrayed. He was ready to insist, but was taken by Blaine out of the alley. Santana even considered asking Kurt to away too, but it was he who held Rachel protectively in his arms. Somehow, it seemed to be Kurt's presence that kept Rachel from exploding. Santana turned her attention to her friend.

"Rachel. Open your eyes. You know you're not the Cyclops."

The actress hesitated but obeyed. Her body never shivered as intensely as it did at that moment. She didn't remember having such a bad reaction in the metropolis. That was what made Rachel more frightened. But Santana was there. Finally.

"Hi." Santana said with a gentle smile and tried to act naturally before her bright red eyes. "It looks like we'll have to start over."

"Sam... I can't contain it anymore." Rachel started to cry. "You have to let me go."

"Rachel, please, breathe!"

"I can't!"

Rachel disengaged herself from Kurt's arms and walked further down the alley. She knelt down, put her hands on the floor, very close to the six-story building that lay there.

"Hummel... run!" Santana said.

But Kurt didn't run. He witnessed with bewilderment when his best friend released such intense energy that she created a small local earthquake. Kurt saw the buildings in that alley shake, especially the one closest to Rachel. And for a region where there were no earthquakes, the buildings had no resistance to it. The piece of a marquee gave way (truth be told, such a building urgently needed repairs). Santana, with incredible reflex, took the trashcock and used it as if it were a baseball bat to save Kurt and Rachel. Santana dropped the trash can as if it were a beer can. Kurt doesn't know what made him more shocked: whether it was the energy emanated by Rachel or whether it was the show of strength and agility of Santana. One thing was for sure: he was standing in front of the vigilante and the possibly responsible for the explosion of the old apartment.

The vigilante ran back to Rachel and hugged her.

"Hey, it's okay... it's okay. Let's get out of here, okay?"

But the cries for help began to come from the streets and from within the most damaged building. Santana looked at Kurt.

"Get her out of here!"

The vigilante opened her backpack and put on the mask in front of Kurt. Then she handed the backpack to her former colleague. There was no time for subtleties. Santana rushed inside the building, and began the pilgrimage in search of the origins of the distress calls. She forced entry into one of the apartments to find an old lady trapped under a refrigerator. Santana took the appliance from her, and winced as she imagined the other's pain from the fractured leg. She couldn't be subtle, as there were more calls for help. She took the old woman into her lap and carried her to the sidewalk, laying down the lady with the utmost care, and say to a man who volunteered to help.

"There are more people in there for help." The vigilante said to the guy. "I'm not going to handle it myself. Call 911."

Santana left the old woman and the man behind, and ran back into the now condemned building. Many people were already leaving the apartments. Some to ask for help, others to run for their own lives, a few were sympathetic to those left behind. Because Santana had enormous physical advantage over an ordinary human being, she came faster where it was needed. It received the encouragement of many of the villagers, but there were also those who forgot even the tragedy for the opportunity to photograph or to film the vigilante action. Firefighters and paramedics arrived when much of the work was done. The vigilante saw that her work was no longer necessary, that public authorities could handle the work that was still lacking. It was time for her to get away.

"Watch out!" Somebody said.

Santana heard the scream of a man from a beam in the access corridor that was giving way. Instinctively, she ran and gripped the beam, allowing some people to pass underneath in relative safety. The beam was heavy and the position didn't suit her. Santana's arms were up, almost stretched, and she would tire soon enough. She waited for a woman to pass with a child on her lap to drop everything and run out.

"Do not move!" Said the fireman. "If you drop the beam, the ceiling collapses and this passage will be blocked. We need to make sure there's no one else in this building."

"No, please..." Santana said.

"Listen, vigilante, I've seen you hold a car on a bridge long enough for two people to be saved. This is not different. Be still while we get an anchor."

Santana, as a practicing architecture student, had basic engineering knowledge and knew the firefighter was right. The building was doomed and the ceiling was sagging. It wasn't going to fall completely at that moment, but would be imploded by the city hall soon enough. Then she resisted to hold the beam. She couldn't complain that the firemen stay to make sure she would hold the beam. He set about arranging an improvised heel, while the rest moved to finish removing the villagers as quickly as possible.

"That was the last!" A fireman passed with a dog and an old man.

The two firefighters who were assisting the vigilante speeded up the heel.

"It won't work." The vigilante warned. "You... need... to... leave... now!"

"No. We're going to get out of here together, okay? You let go of the beam and we'll run in one, two, three!"

The fireman grabbed the vigilante's waist and ran with the ceiling falling behind them to the entrance of the building still with its structure intact. The vigilante looked back and didn't believe the destruction. She was sweaty and covered in dense dust. More than that, her body was tired and she hardly could feel her arms. She saw the police surrounding the building and knew she would be arrested.

"I can't leave," Santana told the firefighter. "I can't be arrested. These guys won't hesitate to shoot me if I don't surrender."

The fireman took off his vest, his helmet and handed the vigilante.

"That's all I can do for you."

The vigilante put on the fireman's clothes and went out with the friendly worker, thus clearing the group of six agents who were in the place. She stepped through the blockade and went into the crowd after the blockade. She disengaged herself from the crowd until she felt it was safe. Santana went into an alley and got rid of the fireman's uniform. She climbed a wall and went to the other street. She needed to meet the others, but her cell phone was in her backpack, and it was with Kurt. Where were the public telephones in that city? She cleaned herself as best she could (fortunately the mask protected her hair) and walked around the neighborhood hoping to find any of them. Nothing. And the more she circulate with those clothes, the greater the risk of someone identifying her because of them. Especially because of the public security cameras in that region. There were a few places she could go: watchtower, Rachel's parents' house, Kurt's house. But where?

"Santana!"

She heard someone whisper her name. She turned to the side and saw Blaine calling from inside a car.

"Thank goodness," she said to herself and went to the singer. "Where's Rachel?"

"Kurt took Rachel away to our apartment. Brody is with them."

"Ok... So let's go there." Santana got into the singer's car.

Blaine sped toward the compound. He was nervous about the situation and also to discover that in the passenger seat was sitting just the famous vigilante of the city. The one that hit criminals, disarmed gangs and participated in the famous rescue of the bridge. He had millions of questions and considerations to make, but all he did was shut up and drive. It was better this way.

"My backpack?"

"Kurt took it."

"OK."

"Santana... hum..."

"No questions asked. And if you open your mouth about anything about what happened today, I'll kill you."

Blaine swallowed hard and simply drove. Kurt and Blaine's apartment was near from there. They arrived on the scene in five minutes. Santana dismissed the elevator and climbed the three flights of stairs to the appointed apartment. She barely rang the doorbell and the door opened.

"Where is she?"

"In the room right there." Brody said.

Santana nodded. She didn't knock on the door, it wasn't in order to formalities after everything happened. She found Rachel sitting on the floor hugging Kurt.

"How is she?"

"Bad." Kurt said.

"Rach?" Santana knelt before Kurt and Rachel and stroked her hair.

"I caused that ... I caused..."

"Kurt, a word?" The boy nodded and followed Santana out of the room and closed the door. Blaine and Brody were within a reasonable distance, just watching.

"What is it?" He whispered.

"Do exactly as I say. Buy some sleeping pills and give it to Rachel. She's broken and we can not do any good to her right now." Santana also whispered.

"I agree."

"Another thing: where's my backpack?"

"Right there." He pointed to the backpack placed on top of the small dining table.

"OK. Do what I told you and then we'll talk."

"Ok, I agree. Oh… there is one thing that happened that left Rachel even more in crisis."

"What?"

"A girl I suppose to be your girlfriend showed up. She saw that it was Rachel who caused the tremor, said barbarities and threatened to expose her to the police and send her to jail if she didn't move away from you."

"Oh shit!" Santana rubbed her face and leaned against the wall.

"Exactly. Oh shit!"

...

Quinn followed the repercussions of the accident in the building with much concern. The authorities speculated the origin of the earthquake and the almost immediate action of the vigilante. The videos showed some rushing and screaming. Santana (with the mask) carried people on her lap or on her shoulders. A video showed the vigilante all covered in dust, holding up a broken beam. It was a positive view of the vigilante or vigilantes, but it was also an unnecessary exposure.

"Thank God Santana has no tattoos," Quinn told Artie and Marley as she studied some of the videos. "But everyone knows that the vigilante is a woman of color, which sucks."

"It's not much different from the bridge videos. These images are even worse, quieter and darker" Artie commented. "Did you get anything more from Santana?" He asked Marley.

"No. She just left the message that was with Rachel and that she was fine. She would come here as soon as possible." Marley checked the cell phone again. "How Rachel could have caused all this?"

"I don't know, but it's possible." Artie analyzed the situation. "She even trained with us before she moved. We had a small sample of what she was capable of. You know that badly explained case of how she blew up the apartment she shared with Kurt? So it was one of those blasts. I think Rachel is the most powerful person among us here, but she's also the one with the least control."

"She's a walking time bomb!" Quinn raged. "She should never have left until she had trained enough to control herself. Now she's been a risk to us all."

"Okay, fine... but we need to do some action from now on. Things like getting into the security camera system and erasing the traces of Santana." Artie pondered. "That my friend can do the job, but I think he's going to ask for more money this time. He's been asking a lot of questions about the vigilantes."

"Can't you do that?" Quinn frowned.

"Not with the level of sophistication that this demands. This friend is the guy who's going to do the service and we'll make sure it works. Believe me."

"We have no budget for this, Artie," Marley remarked. "We've already spent a bundle with the tower computers, the drone, the exclusive cameras, and the van. The cashier is closed for the next six months. Otherwise we will commit the money to pay the expenses of the hut, this apartment and, above all, my salary. Off the reservation for the payment of taxes!"

"Your salary!" Artie mocked.

"Are you going to question that? Then argue with Santana." Marley snapped.

"Guys!" Quinn was between them. "Let's put our heads in place, okay? Santana is with Rachel and she won't be able to make complicated decisions right now. So let's do the following: Artie, do what is possible right now, call your friend if you need. We will deal with him later if necessary. Anything you can do will be a win for us. Marley, I need you to get in touch with Mercedes, see what she gets from the contacts and pass it on to us."

"And what are you going to do?" Marley said with some audacity.

"Exactly what I'm already doing: keeping this group up and running."

...

"You won't ask questions about me. You will pretend that you are not at all curious about the actions of vigilantes taking place in this city. Even because if you ask, you won't get answers. And if you make any threat, to hand me over to the police, the door is right there. I just don't guarantee you'll get past it with the bones of your body intact. Rachel is the only person who matters here. And if you care least for her, you're going to help me understand what's going on. Is that understood?"

"Crystalline." Brody swallowed dry.

The vigilante wasn't kidding, though Brody was really thrilled to be in front of Santana Lopez. He was in the room of Kurt and Blaine, between the couple of lovers, in front of the vigilante who had just done an incredible feat in a building in ruins. Yes, despite the stress and outburst of Rachel, that was quite a day.

"How long have you known Rachel has powers?"

"About six months ago, I caught Rachel trying to unload."

"Did you tell her secret to anyone?"

"I did bad things in this life, but betraying Rachel's trust was never one of them. She is my best friend."

"I'm her best friend." Kurt countered and was silenced when he received a near-killer look from the vigilante

"Since you knew... are these uncontrollers frequent?" Santana resumed her interrogation.

"Rachel sometimes had red eyes after the show or a day of intense rehearsal. But the power offloads were never as strong as today."

"Did she tell you anything about practicing control, doing tai chi, or doing some activity to expend that energy?"

"No, she didn't. She goes to a gym and we have work in the theater. That's all I know."

"What's the diagnosis?" Kurt asked.

Santana stared at the three young men and blew her lips in an exercise of relaxation. She was perfectly aware that Rachel needs a more rigorous routine to expend the energy that is clearly accumulated within her. Before going to the metropolis, she got to practice regularly with Santana, Quinn and Matt. She looked good these days, so Santana thought Rachel's powers were related to her emotional state and physical control. After all, they were only to manifest late in Rachel after a terrible emotional trauma.

"It's something I need to talk to Rachel herself as soon as possible." Santana stood up. "Kurt, could you keep an eye on her?"

"Don't you think I could keep an eye on her?" Brody snapped.

"I will stay. I'll call you as soon as she wakes up." Kurt said louder, to show authority to Brody.

"Thank you." Santana took her backpack." Just one more thing. About you now know of my other identity..."

"Your secret is safe with me," Kurt assured her.

"Me too." Blaine nodded.

"I do not betray Rachel. Telling her identity would be like betraying her. Although I didn't go with your face, watch out, your secret is safe with me too."

"Thank you for the part that touches me." Santana frowned. "Thank you all."

"Lopez."

"Yes, Hummel?"

"That day, in my apartment, when Finn hit you. You could have fight back. Why didn't you retaliate? To blame him?"

"I'm not that calculating, Hummel. That day I restrained myself and let him beat me not only because I couldn't expose myself to you, but also because if I retaliated, I could do a lot of damage with a punch. I could kill him. Rachel would never forgive me if I messed up Hudson's pretty face."

Despite the slightly arrogant tone of the vigilante, Kurt knew Santana was being honest. If she picked it up (and didn't even complain about it) it was because it was the best thing to do. For a long time Kurt had harbored a dislike of the vigilante. He didn't approve of Rachel's involvement with that vigilante, and he thought the masked woman did what she did merely to show off. He was wrong. It was confusing for Kurt to put Santana Lopez and altruistic in the same sentence, but he was convinced there that behind the arrogant and cynical stance that the former colleague had always presented, there was someone there who cared at least for Rachel Berry. It was something that counted for Kurt.

…

Mercedes was worried. Another series of the vigilante's videos were being posted on social networks. Although the images are unclear, there was a significant detail in the vigilante costumes: the free university t-shirt. It was a black T-shirt with the university symbol on the front. It was a dark, discreet drawing. Many people in town bought institutional university jerseys. None of this was new. The point that drew attention was that that particular model was sold by the student directory exclusively to the students themselves. If the vigilante wore that particular T-shirt, it was a strong clue to the detectives that she was probably a college girl. It was a limiting factor for both investigations if that were to be confirmed, since they now needed to look for a non-Caucasian student of a certain height and approximate weight. Eventually the police would get to Santana, even if it was just for questioning.

When Santana left the dormitory to meet Rachel, Mercedes remembered how she simply took the first dark T-shirt she saw in the wardrobe and dressed her. It was the effect Rachel, as Mercedes liked to speak, that could be really dangerous to every group, as Quinn Fabray has alarmed a few times.

"Did you see what happened?" Mercedes's work partner told her. "They are saying that there is a video of a particular camera that caught someone who could be the watcher."

"Seriously? Did you have access?"

"No, I didn't. The SBN had access and will spread the news on the news soon." The journalist looked at some notes. "The expertise will be made tomorrow, but as far as is known, there was no noise of explosion. The building was damaged after a local earthquake, which is very strange. Something that some geologist can't explains. They are speculating that it may have been the action of one of these mutants with superhuman powers, perhaps an enemy of the vigilante."

"Is this serious?"

"That's what the commissioner suspects ... off record, of course."

Mercedes needed a lot of self-control not to panic. Damn Rachel Berry! She needed to think fast, she needed to create some factoid, maybe. Use her knowledge of journalism to do bad journalism to divert attention. As?

...

Quinn was watching the newscast closely with Artie and Marley while Beth was in the room she used to occupy in the downtown apartment. The little girl wasn't interested in news for now. It was released the video that allegedly caught the vigilante. Quinn didn't know whether to breathe relieved or to become even more worried. The image reveals a person wearing the university T-shirt and jeans, the same Santana's outfits, but she wasn't the vigilante. She was a curly-haired woman who wore a purse that by chance passed through the neighborhood that minutes later would have a significantly damaged building. But if you notice well, in the same video, in the upper corner, someone appears running. You can only see her legs, but this one was the vigilante herself.

When Santana entered the apartment in a raincoat that was in her backpack to disguise the dirty clothes, Quinn and Marley wanted to hit the leader. The group stared at her, who slammed the door shut. Santana removed her coat, revealing the university's notorious dusty T-shirt. The jeans were also very dirty, but the backpack, contrasting with the rest, was clean.

"Don't judge me, okay?" Santana told her friends. She picked up a glass and drank cold water. Seeing that the others were holding on to yell at her, Santana sighed and sat down in the chair next to the three of them. "I never thought it could happen. It was just to help Rachel control herself. I never imagined that her powers could be so strong and uncontrolled. I never imagined she was in her worst."

"Never mind, Lopez, I really like Berry, but she's not our responsibility." Quinn raged. "The fact that she has powers and know our identities does not make her one of us!"

"What would you do, Fabray? Would you let her go?"

"No, Santana. I wouldn't let her alone. But I would think more before I act."

"I think before I act, Elsa! That's all I've done all this time. I made one honest mistake today, okay? I didn't go to Rachel as a vigilante. Things got out of control and I couldn't ignore people in need because of something Rachel did. Because of that you think it's fair to condemn me?"

"Santana..." Marley tried to appease her. "I understand that Rachel is an important person to you. That she is your friend. But right now she can screw us up."

"Don't say that, Marley. Rachel needs our help."

"Or you the one who desperately gets an excuse to be around her." Marley folded her arms. "You know, Jenny warned me about that. With Rachel in town, there would be no room for anyone else."

Marley took her purse and left the apartment. The situation between them seemed like it would not improve anytime soon. Santana closed her eyes as Marley slammed the door. Then she turned to face the other friends. Quinn crossed her arms and Artie looked like he was holding himself so she would not fight.

"Did Mercedes give you news?" Santana asked.

"Yes," Artie said dryly. "She is calculating the size of the stranger and keeps us updated at all times. You better get ready, San. Detectives can get to you very soon. We need to have a good story to tell."


	6. Chapter 6

Santana didn't want to be an alarmist. As if all the responsibility and care that her other identity demanded wasn't enough, the discussion she had especially with Artie, Quinn, and Mercedes (over the phone) made her afraid. They needed to operate protections to stay ahead of the police, which is why Artie would probing the possibility of such a friend joining the team. It was already known, at least, that the guy was a sympathizer of the vigilantes. If it were feasible, they would already solve some of the work: a specialist hacker. Artie was a software developer, not a systems breaker, and his ability in such an area was very limited.

The vigilante knew that she should eventually appease Quinn Fabray's spirits. The ice queen was worried, and rightly so. Quinn had a quasi-familiar affair with the team. Alone in the city, winning her own bread for so long, she devoted herself to the vigilantes very much to fill the hole she had on such matters. There was the problem of Rachel's lack of control, of the boys who came to know her identity and whom Santana didn't trust at all. Where's Matt? Oh, yeah, at the academy to be a cop. Great shit. Rachel was the vigilante's biggest concern, the cause of Santana's insomnia. What to do with Rachel?

"Lopez!"

"Yes?" Santana came out of the dream world and answered her boss.

"Have you finished the library project adjustments?"

"Almost."

"I need this ready in an hour!"

"Yes sir."

Santana tried to focus on the work ahead. She had a job to do at the office for a client who wanted to renovate the bookstore spaces. It was the one where Quinn Fabray worked. Not to mention her commitments in college (the final test nightmare) that she had to deal. The vigilante sighed and ran her hand over her hair to try to ward off her fatigue. She wished she could be in bed at that time. Santana got up from the table and poured herself a substantial glass of coffee. She returned to the front of the computer screen and checked the notes in the sketchbook to help her remember what adjustments she needed to make. It was a relatively simple job, but Santana was having great difficulty performing it.

"Did you see?" The other intern at the office said excitedly. "The police are suspicious that the vigilante is a student at the Free University. Non-Caucasian girl, medium height, lean and college student. Hey, Lopez, it could be you."

"If I had the strength of the vigilante, I would use it to shut your mouth with a fine punch!" Santana grunted. She never liked that particular colleague.

"It can only be love!" His colleague mocked. "We should go out sometime, Lopez. You'll have fun and, who knows, it will improve your sour mood. Sometimes I think you're investing in the wrong plug."

"If you make another comment of this nature, you go straight from here to HR." Eric, the architect who was junior associate of the office, warned.

The colleague fell silent and Santana nodded gratefully. Well, sometimes she would like her identity to be known. At least assholes like that would think twice before pestering her.

"I don't know how you hire that human trash." Santana said privately to Eric as she handed over the adjustments.

"He won the Niemeyer Prize, which I remembered, you came in second place." Eric justified again, to remind the trainee because she and her colleague were working in that office in the first place.

"But what good is such skill if he's an asshole?"

"Some people are like that," Eric lamented. "It would be a nice to see you knocking him down. Totally wrong, but nice."

That made Santana smile. Eric has never been so right and so wrong at the same time.

"Well, more 15 minutes and I'm sending the corrections to the boss."

"Okay. Take your time, but not too much time."

…

When Santana received the message, she decided to leave the class. One more absence wouldn't make any difference at that point. She got on a bus and headed for Kurt and Blaine's apartment. The bus passed in front of the damaged building. It was isolated, with a car ahead and one could see the movement of the experts. According to the news, the villagers could only return to their homes and pick up their belongings after the authorization of the experts. The building had 20 apartments and 64 residents. Santana thought of those 64 people who wanted to lose everything because of the lack of control of Rachel, supposedly caused by Jenny. It hurt her soul. She had the ability to design a better and safer building, but she longed to have the money to build a new house for all those people. Santana got off at the bus stop closest to Kurt's apartment and up the stairs. This time she was taken care of by Rachel herself.

"Hi."

"Hi."

Rachel was ashamed and reluctantly gave Santana room to enter the apartment. The vigilante saw that Kurt and Brody were there. She thought the conversation would be a little crowded inside that apartment.

"Have you already eaten?" Santana asked casually.

"I'm not hungry," Rachel replied.

"Well, I know a restaurant nearby that the food is good and cheap."

"Santana, I'm not in the mood to leave."

"Rachel, with all due respect, I think you should. Staying in this cave won't do you any good."

"Perhaps."

"I just want to talk in an airy place. Trust me."

Rachel thought for a moment and then agreed. She was still in the same clothes as the previous day and felt dirty. She could walk with Santana till her parent's house and have the best shower of her life. Rachel thanked Kurt for his hospitality and asked Brody to go home alone to her parents' house. She would talk later to her friend that maybe it was time for him to go back to the metropolis and let her face her demons alone. They left the apartment and Santana thought it was okay to walk in the opposite direction of the building. She didn't want to make Rachel feel worse than she already was.

"How are you?" Santana asked as they walked through the neighborhood.

"Terrible. And you?"

"Tired."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to cause you any trouble. That's why I came back and didn't want to talk to any of you."

"With all due respect, Rach, you caused trouble when you tried to close yourself. If you had come to us first, maybe yesterday's accident could be avoided."

"I can't go back to the past, San. Also, Brody... "

"Yes, Brody, who is this guy? Is he your boyfriend?"

"More or less."

"More or less?"

"Brody is my friend... with benefits."

"Oh!" Santana was uncomfortable. An edge of jealousy emerged, a result of the attraction she still felt for Rachel, and that it was stubborn to remain. "Now I understand why he's with you."

"Brody is a good friend. He cares about me for real."

"I'm happy for you." Santana said uncertainly of her own feelings.

They entered the restaurant indicated by Santana. It was a nice, popular place that Rachel already knew. In fact, they served good food, including vegetarian options. Santana and Rachel made the orders and there was an uncomfortable silence between them. Santana wanted to argue about Rachel's powerlessness. Rachel didn't want to talk about it, even though she knew she needed help.

"How's Quinn and the others?" Rachel asked hurriedly, as if she had to introduce any subject first before she had to talk about what she was avoiding.

"Quinn's fine. She moved into the cabin."

"Really? So far from the city! Why?"

"Problems with the neighborhood." As she responded, Santana scowled, finding it odd that she hadn't been completely frank with Rachel. "Artie is working at a technology company here, Mercedes has been hired by the newspaper and has a blog of her own."

"Yes, I know. I'm her reader."

"Matt went to the police academy."

"Seriously?"

"He says he'll be a double agent." Santana smiled. "Do you remember Marley?"

"Tall, thin, light brown hair?"

"Yes. She is… she's working with us, and she's my…"

"Look what a thing! You're already having a meal together. How sweet." Rachel and Santana were surprised by Jenny. Rachel, in particular, flinched in her chair because of the young woman's intimidating presence. Jenny, unceremoniously, sat down at the table with Rachel and Santana, staying with her ex-girlfriend.

"Who said you were invited?" Santana said in a slightly threatening tone.

"Why, my dear? Don't you see the opportunity? You broke up with me as quickly as you laid eyes on her. Don't you think I have the right to understand some things after all this time dedicated to you?"

"Santana... I think I'm going to go home alone to my parents' house." Rachel got up from the table.

"No honey, stay!" Jenny said loudly, to catch the attention of the other people in the restaurant. "I think it's fair for you to clarify why my girlfriend here is dropping a four-year relationship because of you!"

"Jenny, for God's sake, lower your tone." Santana felt all the restaurant's eyes on her. They were judgmental looks.

"I don't know Santana. I wanted to understand the reason. If it's her, is it YOUR OTHER JOB? Or is it because she's just a freak like you?"

"Now that's enough!" Santana gripped Jenny's arm tightly.

"You'd better treat the right girl!" A man at the next table stood in a menacing manner.

Santana released Jenny's arm. Feeling all eyes on her, Rachel's embarrassment, and Jenny's defiant posture, she had no choice but to retreat.

"Jenny, please. This is the wrong place to discuss about our problems. I'll talk to you later, okay? Tonight. It's a promise. I'll send you a message about the place. A fine and quiet place that we can solve it all."

"I'm counting on it, Santana." Jenny got up and left without looking back.

Santana and Rachel took a minute to react to the explicit threat of exposure.

"I've lost my appetite." Rachel stood up. Santana hurried to leave the money for the dishes ordered at the table and went after Rachel, who stopped her. "I'd better go home alone, San. Obviously you have as many problems to solve as I do."

Rachel left the restaurant, leaving Santana behind. The vigilante was furious. Good thing Jenny was already out of her reach, otherwise a very bad thing could happen. At least, Santana would have some time to put her head in place before meeting Jenny again.

...

Santana met up with Jenny at the vigilantes' favorite restaurant for being a small, discreet place. She didn't want to meet Jenny at her house or any other private place just to help with the idea that she wanted to negotiate a situation as an adult. She went over all the advice she had received from Quinn a few days ago, that is, admitting all guilt, praising Jenny, and praying for the approach to work.

"Hi Jenny." Santana smiled sheepishly.

"I thought I wouldn't come." Jenny poured herself wine from the table. The bottle was already half empty. "Help yourself."

"Wines are for different times, do not you think?"

"Do as you wish, Lopez."

Santana sat down and ordered a can of beer for the waiter. She didn't get drunk so easily and a can of beer was almost water for her. The vigilante drank the liquid, which went deliciously chilled down her throat. It was as if she needed it, considering the last stressful days she'd had.

"I wanted to apologize. I know I was wrong when I had a relationship with Marley behind your back. I was a bastard, a bitch, and you have every right to hate me for it."

"There were others?" Jenny interrupted her.

"Not. It was only with Marley."

"How long have you had sex with her?"

"About two months."

"Did you fuck Rachel Berry?"

"I never had sex with her. Rachel's just a friend who's going through a difficult time right now."

"I saw what she did. I came across her at the instrument store (Jenny was a pianist). I wasn't following her if she thought so. I'm better than that. But when I saw her, knowing everything you feel for that slut, I had to confront her. That's when she had blood red eyes right in front of me. Not the whites of the eyes. The iris of the eyes. Then she started to feel sick. I got to have pain in the conscience, you know? I saw her friends leading her into that alley. For a minute, I wanted to go there to help. That's when I saw you arriving. I saw the building shake. It wasn't difficult to connect the dots."

"Yes, Rachel is like me. That's why I care about her, that's why I'm trying to help her get through this difficult time. But you need to understand one thing: she's just a person I'm trying to help deal with. It's not easy, Jenny. You have no idea what it's like to have great power in your hands and you can not control it."

"Maybe I believe that your intentions with Rachel Berry are true, Santana. But you see, you spent two months fucking Marley Rose. Two months and in no time you broke up with me. The very day you heard Rachel was back in town, you end our relationship. What do you want me to think?"

"Our relationship was doomed a long time ago. You know it. My affair with Marley wasn't out of sheer brutality. I started to relate to her because I felt a connection. Something I left feeling for you a long time ago. Jen, the point is that I couldn't find the right time to tell you, not to mention that you've been traveling a lot these last few months. That's the truth. It has nothing to do with Rachel Berry or Marley Rose. It has to do with the fact that we haven't been working as a couple for a long time."

"You don't want me anymore?"

"No, Jen, I don't want you. I'm not the one for you. Our paths are very different. You have business in the metropolis and I intend to stay in this city for a little longer. I have responsibilities here."

"So noble and so hypocritical that I even want to vomit."

"Feel free."

Santana's response made Jenny so angry that, on impulse, she poured wine into the vigilante's face. Santana closed her eyes, which burned from contact with the liquid, and groped the table for a napkin.

"Your bitch, you know I can't fight back!"

"So noble of you!" Jenny said scornfully, not buying a comma from Santana's speech. "But you know what? You're nothing but a hypocrite, Lopez. A hypocrite." Jenny yelled, catching everyone's attention in the restaurant.

"Ladies, we need to ask you to solve this problem out there," the waiter warned.

"Yeah, put it out!" Stimulated a woman at the next table.

"Shut up, you retard. If I want to, I'll buy the shit out of this restaurant. Now leave me alone." Jenny continued stiff and shoved the waiter.

"Jen! Let it go!" Santana determined, still with a blurred vision.

"You don't rule over me, VIGILANTE!" Jenny turned to the rest of the restaurant. "Yes, you heard right, she's the vigilante!"

Santana's eyes widened, however much they were still hazy. She was so possessed by Jenny shouting her other identity there that she couldn't help herself and slapped Jenny's face with her open hand. The slap was loud and strong enough to knock out the ex-girlfriend, that ended up falling on the next table. A man got up and pushed Santana.

The man at the table tried to hold the vigilante, but Santana pushed him before he had the chance. The man tried to fight back. He slapped Santana's face. She tried to put in perspective the whole time that she was the vigilante, that she had superhuman strength and no fistfighting with her was really fair. But suddenly there was a widespread fight going on in the restaurant and Santana had to defend herself by attacking. People only stopped when two revolver shots were fired. It was the manager of the restaurant.

"The police were called," the manager shouted. "Stop it or your situation will get worse." He pointed the revolver in the direction of Santana.

Santana stopped, as did Jenny, the three men and a woman who got into the fray as well as the waiter. They stood still, hands up. One of the men tried to argue again, but the manager made it very clear with a third shot that wouldn't tolerate another word. Santana saw the stares of hatred being hurled at her. She saw Jenny crying. Shee saw the manager apologizing to the other customers, saying that the restaurant would be closed that night and no one would have to pay for the orders. A night of loss for an honest business. Yes, it was to be regretted.

The police arrived and arrested everyone involved. Santana never had a handcuff on her wrists, not even to satisfy sexual fantasies. The feeling of being handcuffed and put inside a police car was the worst possible. It seemed like she was going through astral hell. The route between the police station was very long, although the police station was only three blocks from the restaurant. The brigands were taken inside the police station, but what Santana was surprised was that only she was led into the jail. The handcuffs weren't even removed. Did the people really take Jenny's speech seriously that she was the vigilante? Santana began to feel nervous palpitations. She was in a police station, in jail, the only one of a fight in a restaurant that was locked up.

"I want my phone call!" Santana shouted at the guard. "I want my rights!"

"Shut up!" Said one prisoner in the next cell.

That was when Santana realized a second scenario. There were three cells in that space, there was a cell with five women, who looked like prostitutes and addicts. There was another cell with four men. But she was alone. Why wasn't she put together with the women?

Santana sat down on the metal bench without padding in her cell. She wanted to mop up with the cuffs, which she knew she could do with some ease. She restrained herself. She couldn't stop my leg from trembling. It was a fast tap tap tap that her heels were against the floor.

"You must be a psychopath if you are still in your handcuffs." One of the men scorned.

Santana tried to ignore the man. She continued to tremble with such anxiety. She looked at the internal security camera, and imagined a bunch of cops staring at her through the monitors, eager for her to do anything suspicious that would justify keeping her there in the dark. She closed her eyes. Santana would give a kingdom for having the right to throw water on her face, she smelled of red wine and sweat. Her face was sticky, giving her girth, her clothes were also stained with wine, and she was cuffed. She took a deep breath, but no exercise to keep her cool would work.

She was in jail a little over an hour ago, but it seemed like forever. That's when a detective showed up.

"Santana Lopez?" At the nod, the detective unlocked the cell. "Please accompany me, please."

Santana's heart seemed to want to jump out of her mouth. The nervous made her crave vomit, which she did when she saw the first dump. One of the two uniformed cops accompanying her pulled her up brutally. Santana wanted to retaliate, but was content to complain.

"Since when did a girlfriends' fight over the point make someone go through this embarrassment?" Santana raged. "Why is not she having the same treatment? Why aren't others taking the same treatment?"

Santana was led to an interrogation room. The detective only took the handcuff off her to lock it back to the table. Then she left the room and left Santana alone in that tiny room with a mirror in front. Santana had seen enough police movies to know that behind the mirror was another room with footage, audio capture and a lot of people watching her with their arms crossed, talking things over her.

She was alone in that room for endless minutes. Jenny could only have said something about her being the vigilante, since that treatment wasn't justified because of a fight. If it was in a bar, then all that would happen would be a six-foot-tall security guard that would immobilize them and put everybody out. So much more civilized. Then Santana thought of what she would say, or of not answering anything, relying on her right to remain silent and the presence of a lawyer.

The detective entered the room once more. He had a briefcase and a bottle of water. Santana was crazy to take some water to take some of the taste out of vomit. Surely the bottle was a bargain to make her talk.

"Santana Lopez." The detective put the file folder and the water bottle purposely in front of her. "Senior student of the Faculty of Architecture and Urbanism of the Free University. As it turns out, you've never had a single police record so far. What got into you, Lopez? Witnesses said you beat up your girlfriend just as she called you a vigilante. What do you have to say about that?"

"That my ex-girlfriend set up a circus for me because she didn't accept the end of our relationship. That's why. She wanted to get revenge, to hurt me, so she made up lies. Look, I made a huge mistake hitting her. I swear it was the first time I laid a hand on her. I swear! I'm sorry for that. I should never have gotten out of control, but I was on edge with her. What I don't understand the excess that is clearly going on here. I don't understand why all the others involved were even arrested. Why didn't I even have the right to a phone call?"

"Hm," the detective grunted, clearly trying to stay ahead of the game. "Have you ever heard of the vigilante masquerade?"

"All the people of this city have heard of it."

"But have you heard of the suspicious profile we're looking for? Woman with brown skin, no visible tatoos, possibly a college girl, with biotype next to yours. Isn't that a coincidence?"

"Do you think if I were the vigilante I would be here in that position? Do you think I wouldn't have used my superforce to bust the cuffs and run away from here or the restaurant?"

"If the vigilante was stupid, probably. But if she really is a college girl, it means she has a good education, right? She was going to understand that going out the front door of the police station is a much better deal."

"Well, if you're accusing me of being the vigilante because of a daydream that my revengeful ex-girlfriend said just to fuck me, then I'll just speak to my lawyer." Santana relaxed in her chair and stared at the detective.

"In the fight, the boys said that you are very strong. I can see that you were able to deal with guys twice your weight and still left without any scratches."

"I smacked Jenny and pushed one of them, but at the time of the widespread fight, they beat each other. I just slipped away."

"Santana Lopez, are you the vigilante masquerade?" No answer. "You claim it's not you in those photographs?" The detective showed pictures taken from video frames, but continued to have the silence in response. "You were present at Avenida Cardoso Sunday afternoon?" More silence. "Who are the other vigilantes?" The detective asked more aggressively, but only received silence. "I bet you're thirsty. How about I give you some water to drink and wash your face in exchange for some answers?" More silence and the detective punched the table in a scene game made to try to scare the young woman. "Damn it, Lopez, I swear if you don't give me any explanation, I'll make you stay here until the hearing with the judge."

Santana stared at the detective and remained silent, even with all her heart's desire to drink some water. The detective took Santana's cell phone and began to see photos, last phone calls and faced Santana, who didn't seem affected anymore. The cell phone she used as a vigilante was another device, and she was very disciplined not to mix things up, even though she had the contact of the whole group there too. The detective saw photos of Santana with Jenny, with Marley, photos she took for the job, work notes and some messages from Kurt and Quinn, which were the most suspicious.

"Are you friends with Rachel Berry? The same Rachel Berry as the vigilante's mistress?" More silence. "Looks like this Quinn Fabray really needed to talk to you. Who is she? Another girlfriend?" Silence.

The detective shook her head and tossed the cell phone to Santana.

"You're entitled to a phone call!"

Santana picked up the phone and dialed a number that didn't answer the first time. She insisted on the same number, until she heard a sullen Marley on the other side.

"What was it this time, Lopez?" Marley answered in an impatient, half-aggressive voice.

"Rose, pay attention, I was arrested and I'm here at the police department. Need help."

After a brief silence, Marley answered.

"Is that a prank?"

"Unfortunately it's not."

"I'm coming."

Santana tossed the cell phone back to the detective.


	7. Chapter 7

As soon as Marley spread a message about Santana in jail, there was an initial moment of doubt on the part of the other vigilantes, much for the lack of information. Until Quinn took a lead and called a videoconference, promptly attended.

"What exactly is the situation?" Quinn asked.

"I'm going to police department right now to know what's going on, but by the tone of Santana, it looked like serious."

"The best of all is that she was arrested for drunkenness. Worst of all, she's been arrested for being the vigilante," Mercedes explained. "The truth is that the police have nothing against the person Santana Lopez, even if it proves that she is a vigilante, because there is no way to prove that she or any of us participated in the episodes that the police could point to as a crime. There is no law against vigilantes, although this is under discussion in the city hall."

"There is no law to specifically criminalize vigilantes, but there are a number of laws that inhibit the citizen from doing justice with its own hands. Creating jurisprudence to criminalize us wouldn't be difficult." Quinn explained, since she was specializing in criminal laws.

"It sucks!" Artie was discouraged.

"Let's think about the current situation. They're mostly behind two vigilantes: the strong one and the flying one, right?" Quinn was coldly analyzing the situation. "So we need to introduce a strong vigilante to a show tonight."

"How?" Asked Mercedes.

"I don't know, but we have to find a way."

"I know how, but that requires another person in the group," Artie said with some trepidation.

"Who?"

"My friend who has done some work for us. I know in fact that he has a kind of mechanical arm that he is working to help porters in the rural area. It's a prototype and doesn't even come close to what Santana is able to do naturally, but that already helps a lot these people. Honestly, I think you could help us right now."

"This friend of yours is pro-vigilant, correct?" Quinn made sure.

"Yes, he said it more than once."

"Artie, you and I are going to pay a visit to your friend now. Marley, when you go see Santana, do not pay bail today for nothing in this world. It's critical that she stay in jail till tomorrow. And Mercedes... take Santana's watchman stuff and come to the cabin to stay with Beth. She'll be sleeping and the house locked, but I'd feel better if anyone was here. You know where the key are."

"I can do this... this time," Mercedes warned, making it very clear she was no one's nanny. "What about Rachel?"

"Rachel has powers, but she's not one of us. She stays out of our scheme for now. People! To work!" Quinn closed the transmission.

...

Marley arrived at the police department accompanied by Ryder Lynn, a newly formed lawyer and considered a small prodigy who already had a position in the company at age 25. Lynn was hired by the Fishes' offices, but it wasn't from there that he and Marley met. The Lynn family, along with the Fishes, were part of the country club group that brought together the city's privileged families. The Lynns were farmers, and they dominated the production of chicken and corn of the region. Ryder was the youngest son, who, unlike the other two brothers, decided to pursue a career that didn't involve agribusiness.

When they arrived at the police station, Ryder demanded to know all the information about Santana. A brief analysis already showed that there was absolutely nothing to justify differential treatment. Words exchanged in the heat of a discussion can hardly be taken into account. It would be like arresting a person and passing a vivid clip on her life, just because someone in a fight called him a thief or a corrupt one. The retention would only be justified by concrete evidence.

Ryder even made formal complaints against the detective at the head of the case for abuse and violation of rights, something that would make the detective respond to a disciplinary process. However, Santana would still have to pay bail to get out of jail because of the restaurant fight. If the cops couldn't put a finger on Santana, the bail was Marley's perfect excuse to keep her at the police station all night.

"Santana." Marley approached the cell and was horrified to find that her friend was still cuffed. "Guard!" Marley shouted. "Why is she still handcuffed?"

With a nod from the superior, the guard unwillingly went to the cell and removed the handcuffs.

"Hi." Marley forced a smile on the lookout, who looked frightened by the situation. "Did they hurt you?"

"Not physically. Can I get a glass of water? I threw up in the bin and they refused me water."

"That's absurd!" Marley was furious. "An inhumanity."

"I know. They're trying to pressure me in every way they can."

"I'll get some water, but San, listen to me carefully. You're staying here this night, okay?"

"Why?"

"We need to sort out some things to clean your side. But tomorrow I come here and bail you out. It's all right?"

"Marley..."

"Do you trust us?"

"Of course."

"I'll get some water. You're going to try to nap a little. I'll bail tomorrow."

"Marley."

"What?"

"Is Jenny all right?"

"How can you still care about this person after what she did to you?"

"She's hurt."

"I'm too."

"Sorry about that. I didn't have the intention."

"I know you didn't. See you soon, Lopez."

Santana watched Marley leave the cell area and then sat down again. Five minutes later, a guard came to her and handed her water in a paper cup. It was all courtesy that Santana would have in that place. She thanked him, drank water, and tried not to cry.

Marley left the station a little more relieved. Ryder's performance was perfect, and she didn't think it was too bad to owe her friend another favor.

"How about paying my fees? Dinner?" Ryder asked charmingly as the two of them stepped out of the police department.

"I'll have dinner with you tomorrow. Then, we can think about something more." Marley walked to her car.

"Do you have a date now?"

"Not at all. I'm just exhausted."

"Marley... about Santana, she's the vigilante, isn't she?"

"Santana?" It was Marley's turn to lie using some charm. "No. She has a thing for trouble, but she is not the vigilante."

"Then why do you think her girlfriend accused her in front of everyone?"

"The truth?"

"Would be nice."

"Because Jenny knew I had sex with Santana and she wanted revenge. Jenny is a dangerous lump, if you want to know."

Ryder was perplexed by the revelation. He shook his head and tried to swallow jealousy. Marley and he have known each other since they were kids, because she was the little girl, the daughter of an employee, who frequented high society in company with her father boss's kids. In a way, Ryder always liked Marley. And to think that he would be the lawyer of a potential competitor didn't suit him that much. But what in the world wouldn't he do for Marley?

…

Quinn was astonished at Artie's friend house. The man looked like he lived in a junk yard, so much was the amount of junk that was in front of the house. Quinn put on her mask and exchanged glances with her friend. They both got out of the van. As Artie entered through the front door, Quinn circled through the back door. She was frightened when two dogs went up to her. In the reflection, she raised her hand to the front of her body and closed her eyes. When she realized, the dogs were whimpering with their noses frozen. Quinn was pissed. She didn't like to hurt any animal, but she also had to defend herself. The back door opened abruptly and an indian-looking young man came out of the room terrified by the condition of the dogs.

"Wrap a dish cloth with warm water around the muzzles. Quick!" Quinn instructed.

The man poured the coffee in two cloths and pressed the heated cloth to the muzzles of the dogs. Fortunately, it seemed to work. More relieved, the man turned to the two unexpected visitors.

"I didn't know the vigilante had glacial powers," he said angrily. "Next time, all you have to do is press the buzzer."

"Sorry, but they attacked me."

"Because it's night and you're a stranger. They're tame, okay? "

"Sorry."

"What do you want here?"

"George, we need to talk. Remember when I told you I knew the vigilante?"

"You told the truth." George pointed into the girl. "Let's talk inside."

When Quinn walked into George's house, she was impressed by the amount of gadgets and trinkets inside. That was definitely an inventor's house. She could spend hours in there trying to figure out the function and usefulness of all those things. But she was there on business and in a hurry.

"Artie said you're developing a prototype to boost a person's strength. I need it to solve an issue tonight."

"Why, if you're naturally strong?"

"Let's just say I've had some problems with my strength lately."

"George, could you please not ask questions? It's an emergency." Artie asked.

"I understand. I don't know if Artie told you, but I'm a fan, even though you almost killed my dogs. Only if you came here trusting that I could do you a favor without questions, I want you to show that you can trust in me too."

"Do you want me to take off the mask?"

"It's the price."

Quinn thought for a moment. George was Artie's friend, right? Right. He did some paid favors for the vigilantes, right? Right. He was pro-vigilant, right? Right. And the worst: there was an emergency still to be resolved that night. Quinn removed her mask and stared at the inventor.

"I never imagined you were a blonde." George frowned. But he smiled at the beautiful woman standing before him.

"Will it make a difference now?"

George raised his finger, begging for a minute. He went to a room in the house and came back with a contraption that looked like a waistcoat with hanging irons.

"My brother worked on a farm near here. His back is in bad shape with the weight he carried daily. I invented this because of him, but he called me an idiot, because if he used a contraption like that, besides making it look ridiculous, he would lose the compensation." George opened his vest. "I think you're going to want to wear it underneath your uniform, correct?" Quinn nodded to George and took off his uniform coat, revealing the fit body, even if still covered by a T-shirt and bulletproof vest. "This is so exciting." George could not stop smiling. "Excuse me," he said before helping to put the vest on Quinn.

Then George stuck to the flat balls that formed the metal set on his shoulders, on his elbows, and over his hand, close to his wrist. Then he turned the device on. Quinn felt a small shock, which soon passed. Suddenly, it was as if her arms were tight.

"Try to relax a bit and move your arms normally," George instructed.

Quinn spread her arms and moved. It was very strange to be with that device. She felt like an android, especially because of the noise the hydraulic bars made.

"Lift something you normally couldn't" George challenged.

Quinn went to George himself and held him up. Artie was right and wrong at the same time. The apparatus increased strength, but not that much, and was nothing comparable to the Santana's natural strength. But she could break a branch. All she had to do was arrest some robbers, either, in front of a public security camera.

"It'll work." Quinn nodded to George. "Don't you come?"

"Me?" George was thrilled.

"If something wrong happens with this thing, you need to be ready to fix it." Quinn said as she wore her vigilante uniform, with the exception of the mask.

George just took the coat from the hanger in front of the door and followed the other two.

...

Quinn made constant movements with her arms as Artie drove the van adapted for his condition. George watched the vigilante trying to simulate moves she might have made in a few minutes and noted that, no matter how interesting the invention was, there was an operational discomfort, not to mention the strange volume the device underneath.

"I think I'll work harder on this prototype when I get home." George frowned.

"I think it's fine for now." Quinn stared at the invented in the dark of the interior of the van.

George was a fellow about six feet tall. He was Indian descendent, with straight black hair, he wore glasses, had a beard to be done, his skin was bronze-colored similar to Santana Lopez's. George was definitely nerd-like, but an attractive nerd in Quinn's eyes.

"Is there somewhere in mind, Fabray?"

"I don't know. Maybe a place with convenience stores or pharmacies? There's always some robbery in those places."

"Don't you listen to the police station?" George asked, noting the vigilante's nervousness and a odd amateurism. The vigilantes were definitely not like Batman or the Avengers.

George didn't know about Santana. He didn't know that the the dosal spine of that group was being held in a police station that night. Santana listened to the police channel on her cell phone as she patrolled the streets. When the watchtower started its operation some months ago, Quinn sometimes listened to the police radio channel, but it was mainly because of specifics. Marley was the one who else was in that chair. The same could be said about Quinn acting in the field: she fights only when there were specific tasks to perform. She didn't have the same experience as the others and much because she was a mother of a little girl, she was the bread-winner, she was trying to study as the Community College, and therefore didn't have the same availability.

"The radio, of course." Artie disguised and turned on the police radio channel. "I was thinking of doing something more spontaneous." He tried to disguise himself.

"Turn on the radio and park the van." Quinn rolled her eyes.

Domestic fights? It wasn't the vigilante's intervention profile. Not even cases of prostitution points, unless some booing was spotted, like the time when Santana saw Big Sea beating a girl he explored, or when there were kids involved. Fights in the bar also didn't concern the vigilante. The night was weak. Quinn suddenly jumped out of the car, carrying the cell phone with her. One thing she knew very well was that Santana patrolled, that is, she used to walk in certain areas of the city, so that was what Quinn was supposed to do.

Quinn removed her mask, put a jacket over her uniform, and began to walk around the city. Santana usually moved over the lower buildings of that region, which had three to four stories. But Santana jumped and ran beyond normalcy. It was easier for her. Quinn would have to do everything on the ground. Walking alone through the night alone was strange and different. There was danger in the air because of the empty streets. Quinn lived in a poor, violent neighborhood, so evening night was something she avoided because of Beth. She had to be home for the kid.

She passed by a slightly busier street due to some bars and nightclubs that still worked at that time of the night. Nothing but some guys walking down the street, some women, caps, people smoking. Nothing news or unusual. Quinn was flirted with by a guy on the street, but she kept walking, ignoring the guy's rude and sexist comment. The next street was emptier and calmer, but she kept walking. Two streets ahead, she saw something strange going on in front of a small building. Quinn hurried into an alley where she put on her mask and removed her jacket. Then she saw a, armed man screaming for someone else. Something was definitely wrong.

Quinn ran toward the man who was watching the event. When the man realized the presence of the vigilante, it was too late. Quinn grabbed the man's wrist so he wouldn't shoot. But in the process, her body was so cold that she froze the man's wrist, burning his skin in the process. The man screamed in pain. Quinn seized the advantage and punched him in the face. With her strength magnified with George's invention, the man fell bleeding nose and very stunned by the power of the blow. Another man appeared while Quinn was focused on the first. He shot it once, but Quinn was also wearing a bulletproof vest. She crashed into a car parked at the impact of the bullet. The alarm went off. The second man approached her in a mixture of fear and curiosity. Quinn didn't waste the only gap she had to grab the guy's wrist and freeze. He set the revolver down and walked away.

"What are you?" The man said in amazement. "An Arctic Bitch?"

Quinn began a fight. Although she made extra effort because of George's invention, which made her wearier faster, at least her punches were stronger and had an effect. She pushed the man hard, and he bumped into the car. The man screamed in pain. Quinn knew she could not hesitate any longer and reached for the side of the man's head, who screamed again and fainted. It was long enough for Quinn to turn her attention back to the first one who was already recovering and trying to reach for the gun on the floor. Quinn ran, punched the man and kicked the gun. With no time to waste, she put her hand on the man's head and made him faint with shock. It was done. Quinn breathed breathlessly, she could feel the electricity, the heart racing, the adrenaline. It was like getting high. The action gave her an impressive rush. A lot better than when she experienced ecstasy at a school party with Beth's father (that bastard). She was exhausted, but what a feeling.

Quinn saw some people walk out onto the sidewalk.

"The vigilante took the guys who shot my father!" A younger man shouted and ran toward the scene along with the people.

"You can not lynch those guys." Quinn stood between the bandits and the enraged group. "They won't pay for what they did to their father if they were dead. Call the police... I'm sure you've already called the ambulance."

"But..."

"These guys deserve to rot in hell. It's what the prison does. Believe me."

Seeing that the group calmed down. Quinn took the seals that Santana used to trap people and used them on fainting men. She waited long enough to hear the sirens in the background. It was the cue to leave. Mission Accomplished. She ran into an alley, the same one where she'd left her jacket. How did Santana scale those walls so easily? That's when she was surprised by the flying man.

"Do you want a ride?"

"Let's get out of here."

...

Santana woke up in the early hours of the little nap when she saw the shaking in the cells. The police were arresting two men who had shot at a 60-year-old man during an armed robbery. But, according to five witnesses, the vigilante prevented the escape. Santana heard the story that arrived at dawn and couldn't hide the satisfaction in seeing the guard look guiltily toward her.

"That bitch was made of ice. I swear to god." One of the men said to the others.

Santana listened to everything in the next cell with a smile on the corner of her face. Quinn solved the problem. The leader of the guards would leave the police station with only a warning. Santana was safe for now.

...

Santana stared at the group at the end of an exhausting day. She had just gotten out of jail because Marley was late on bail. Anyway, she was proud of everyone. From how Quinn took the leadership initiative, how Marley managed to act coldly in crisis, and even of Mercedes who, in the heat of events, didn't think she was being diminished by being Beth's nanny so that Quinn could act. But it was time to stop and reflect on the events of the last days, and also to vent, each one saying what they thought. That was why that meeting was between Santana, Quinn, Artie, Mercedes, and Marley. There was no Rachel, there wasn't much less this new member, George. There was no Matt, who had been away for months.

"With all pardon for Marley here, but I said that the involvement of the two of you was bad news." Quinn was emphatic.

"With all due respect, Fabray, but my love life and sexual life doesn't concern you."

"No?" Quinn snapped. "So the fact that you slept in a police station because your crazy ex-girlfriend called you a vigilante in front of everyone doesn't concern any of us here? It's not just your ass that's on the line, Lopez. Everything that happens to you as a vigilante affects us all. Especially when your love life crosses that line."

"I don't want to be a party pooper San, but Quinn is totally right." Mercedes chorused with her best friend. "I'm not against you and Marley get involved. Just look what it did to you. What caused us."

"You're blaming the wrong person." Marley folded his arms and frowned. "So what if Santana and I spelt together sometimes? This work is stressful, even for me who stays here watching everything through the monitors and talking on the cell phone. Do you want a guilty one? How about the fact that Santana maintains a relationship of years with an unbalanced possessive bitch? Or how about the Rachel factor?"

The Rachel factor. This is a crucial point in history. Everyone there knew the effect that Rachel had on the vigilante, because somehow, they all witnessed in some way the beginning of the relationship. It was nothing more than a cliché narrative of the archetype of the hero who lives a romantic but impossible love for the girl of history after a traumatic rescue. Marley would only find out how Rachel had messed with Santana a few days ago and in the worst way, after an unfriendly conversation with Jenny. It infuriated her.

"Look, I agree that Santana's love life has put us all at risk." Artie tried to ponder and turned especially to the leader. "But that is not a problem that will be solved here and now. Our problem is that Marley and her lawyer friend got you out of jail, and Quinn and I produce evidence that disassociates you from the figure of the vigilante. But this is temporary. I don't say the part of jail, because a bar fight wasn't that big deal, but that doesn't mean the police won't keep an eye on you for some time."

"I agree." Mercedes, Quinn, and Marley came to a consensus while Santana was silent.

"What do you suggest then?" Santana wondered what the answer might be, though she didn't like it at all.

"May you hang the mask for now. You can no longer be a vigilante or patrol for yours and our sake."

"I don't agree with this. Not when we're investigating." Santana raged.

"That doesn't mean you're not going to help investigations anymore," Mercedes mused. "I agree with Artie. You just have to stop being the vigilante for now You have to stop patrolling the streets for at least a few weeks. San, why don't you dedicate yourself to graduate? And you can help me. You can also continue to help Quinn and Artie to practice. Who knows, even Rachel?"

Santana felt betrayed, attacked in the back, cast aside and deeply irritated. But deep down, she knew the group was right.

"Wants to know? I think I can take a break. I deserve it."

Santana left the apartment. Quinn took a deep breath as the door closed. She knew the leader didn't bring the little riot into sport, though she couldn't do anything. She turned to her friends and sighed.

"This problem is apparently solved, for now, we need to think about what we're going to do with Rachel." Quinn positioned herself as a leader. "She almost knocked over a building and unfortunately became a threat."

...

Santana arrived exhausted in the dormitory building after being in jail for as long as she liked and the discussion with the group. All she wanted, at least at that very moment, was to take a shower and put her head on the pillow. There were a few students there, walking to the concierge's door or walking out of their dorms for evening classes or other types of meetings. Santana was practically dragging her feet. She walked into the building, picked up the elevator, and walked to the bedroom. She rolled her eyes when she saw that none other than Jenny was sitting at the door waiting for her.

"We need to talk." The older girl got up and faced her ex-girlfriend still in the hall.

"There's nothing to talk about, Jen. I think you screwed me up enough for a long time. Why won't you leave me alone?"

"I need to talk with you. Please Santana. I've been waiting for you all day." Jenny positioned herself between Santana and the bedroom door. "I know I acted badly, but you need to understand my side of the story."

"Listen." Santana approached Jenny with dangerous, tense body language. Then she said softly, enough for her ex-girlfriend to listen. "You've done nothing but be a thorn in my way over all these years. For God's sake, leave me alone your stupid crazy bitch. You screw up my life enough for a decade just in a few days. So, take a plane or your car, go back to your city, to your rich parents, to your business. You should take care of your mental health. You urgently need psychiatric counseling. Or you can just go to hell and burn there for eternity. I don't care anymore, Jen. Get out of my life."

Santana pushed Jenny aside, in a gesture of utter disdain and contempt. Then, she put the key in and unlocked the door. Santana tried hard to ignore Jenny's presence. Her intention was to close the door immediately, but Jenny was already inside the dorm.

"Santana, please!" Jenny was crying. "You're right, I need help. But you're the only one who can help me."

"Jen. Get out of here before I lost my cool."

"But I love you. You're my life."

"That's why you should get another one. I'm done!"

"I love you, Santana."

"And I hate you!"

Jenny leaned against the door. She was in tears. She saw Santana turn her back on her, ignoring her completely.

"You hate me, but you love that Rachel bitch, right?"

"Yes, Jen, Rachel is the love of my life. Now leave me alone." Santana said with coldness without even turning to Jenny, in an act of total contempt.

"I won't let you stay with her."

"What are you talking about?"

As soon as Santana turned, she saw Jenny with the gun in her hand. The next second, Santana was on the bedroom floor.

all she did was feel a sting in the back that made her lose her strength and trip on the table that served for her and Mercedes to study. He fell with his face on the floor.


	8. Chapter 8

Mercedes was the first to arrive at the hospital. She was Santana's emergency contact in that city, the fruit of the friendship they had built since her freshman year. In the four years in which they met, Mercedes never imagined that the resource would ever be used, even with the vigilante's work. Santana was shot more than once, she hurt herself on dozens of occasions, but in most of them there was Brittany to heal her. Since her colleague moved to the Metropolis to pursue her dream of becoming a professional dancer, Santana became much more careful. It was something that went through a better preparation both in training and in actions. Santana wore a bulletproof vest on the patrols, she was less impulsive, and because she had a team under her responsibility, she was more judgmental when she acted. For all that Mercedes didn't believe when it received the emergency phone.

The city had two large hospitals: a public and popular one and a better equipped one, destined for large pockets, as well as some health posts scattered throughout the city. Santana was sent to the most crowded and less equipped public hospital. Mercedes found it difficult to get care at the counter. It took a few minutes for the attendant to identify her and let her through the restricted area.

"I'm looking for Santana Lopez. I'm her emergency contact." Mercedes told the second desk that she had to go.

"Your name?"

"Mercedes Jones."

The clerk consulted the records on the computer and then used the phone before giving an explanation.

"All we know is that Miss Lopez was shot and is currently in the surgery room. I don't know anything else, Miss Jones. But doctor Carson will give you a return as soon as possible."

"Okay... I can only wait, correct?"

"Miss Jones, as in the case of people who get shot..."

"A police officer can ask questions for me. Yes, I am a journalist and I know how it works."

Mercedes sat in the chair and wrote the message to warn the rest of the group. She quickly received replies from Artie and Quinn, but nothing from Marley. The friends who answered the message were on the way. Mercedes wasn't yet aware of the severity of Santana's injury, but if she was on a surgery room, it was because the injury could be very serious. Mercedes didn't think it was time to let things happen naturally. She made a decision and called one last number.

"Hello? Mercedes?" the known voice answered the call.

"Britt, I'm sorry to call you that, but this is an emergency. Santana was shot and is having surgery right now."

There was a brief silence.

"OK. I'm going there as fast as I can."

...

"You need to leave." Rachel insisted on Brody.

"No Rach. I need to stay here. You're not well, and it's clear that Santana Lopez and the other vigilantes can't and won't help you."

"The vigilantes aren't my nanny," Rachel snarled. "To be honest, your presence here is only making things worse."

"How?" Brody was offended.

"You're not part of this world."

"Because I don't have powers like yours?"

"Because you aren't realizing the consequences. I almost knocked over a building, Brody! I've hurt people because I'm losing control. Your presence is only making me more and more depressed because I'm not getting better."

"Is that what you think?"

"Pack your bags."

Rachel went into her room and locked herself. She was stressed about everything that had happened in the last few days, even more than when she left the metropolis. She sat on the bed and put her hands to her face. She cried and cried. What was wrong with her? A stressful experience in the metropolis shouldn't cause such chaos in her life. She was almost content to be a stage actress from the following ranks, of which she wasn't as talented as she imagined. Even if it wasn't true, at that moment, amid anger and frustration, Rachel felt a resounding failure.

She lay on the bed, tried to calm down and remember the breathing exercises. She was an actress and she couldn't afford to walk around with her eyes full of tears. She went to the bathroom in her own room and looked at herself in the mirror. It felt horrible. The cell phone beeped like crazy. Rachel didn't want to check the messages. She presumed it was Kurt or Brody. Rachel switched off the appliance. She rolled back and forth on the bed. She couldn't keep her mind still. There was no meditative exercise or tai-chi that could work at that moment. Maybe a sedative?

She went to her parents' room and checked the medication. It was a shame that Hiram was homeopath. Nothing would do any good to her. Rachel sighed and made a crime she hadn't committed in years. She went down the stairs and, ignoring Brody on the way, entered her parents' study. She opened the drawer and wrote in her father's prescription pad. She took the old stamp (but no pharmacist would check) and signed the signature.

"I'm leaving," Rachel announced to her friend.

"I'll go with you."

"No, you do not."

"That's not fair, Rach."

"What's not fair? I almost knocked over a building and hurt people because I've been so stressed since I got here in this city? Why can not I control myself?" Rachel yelled at her friend. "Yeah, Brody, that's not fair at all."

"Being nervous won't do you any good... or to the others."

Rachel didn't hear her friend. She walked to the front door and looked back at one last warning.

"Brody, you know I really like you. That I care about you. But now I really need to be alone. If I were you, I'd buy a ticket for the bus right now."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I'm trying to preserve our friendship."

Rachel left the house. She thought about getting the old bike in the garage, but she chose to walk around the neighborhood. When she reached the end of the street where her parents lived, she turned the corner toward the nearest trade there. She was lost in her own thoughts. How had everything happened so quickly? She felt the tingling in her hands and wanted to cry just for the anticipation of what was to come. She paused for a moment and took a deep breath. She needed to control herself.

That was when a car pulled up the sidewalk, stopping just in front of Rachel. The actress jumped back because of the scare she took.

"Are you crazy?" Rachel shouted to the occupant of the car.

That was when the car door opened and the occupant came out with a gun in her hand. It was Jenny. The older woman was seriously disturbed, her face swollen from crying, makeup blurred.

"Get in the car before I kill you right here."

"Jenny... calm down..." Rachel tried caution.

"Get in the car!" Jenny shouted and unlocked the gun.

"Okay!" Rachel held up her hands.

Jenny had Rachel come in through the driver's door and shoved her into the passenger seat. Then she closed the car door, hitched the rear axle, knocked on a few garbage cans, and continued to burn tires.

"Jenny." Rachel was panting. "I think I know what you're thinking. Santana must have been a bitch to you, wasn't she? She really is a terrible girlfriend. But I'll tell you this, I have absolutely nothing to do with it. In fact, I haven't seen her in a couple of days, and I intend to extend this space of time."

"Shut up! Just shut up!"

"Jenny... let me out..." Rachel tried to speak with a soul, though she was extremely frightened by Jenny's dangerous direction.

"Not gonna happen."

"Okay... so what if we go talk to Santana? She can confirm my story in every detail. You'll see that she and I have no relationship at all."

"Santana is dead!" Jenny screamed and accelerated the car even further, cutting off the other cars in the traffic, causing sudden braking and nervous horns from the other drivers.

"What?" Rachel's spine froze, as if Quinn Fabray had touched her.

"I killed Santana and the next one will be you!"

...

Mercedes was sitting in the hospital chair. Her hands were on her head. Her body was leaning forward, her face staring at the floor. Mercedes wasn't focused on the understated design of the bright, light-colored floor imitating marble. She prayed fervently for the success of the doctors in the surgery room. She prayed fervently for Santana to live long enough for Brittany to arrive. She prayed so hard she barely felt the hand that touched her shoulder.

"Cedes?" The journalist looked to the side and saw Artie standing beside her. "I came as soon as I read your message."

Mercedes said nothing. She was just relieved to have someone beside her, where she could hug and cry accompanied. Even better that someone was her best friend. Artie, she and Santana formed an infernal trio at the university. The three of them were always together from the beginning, and it made sense that at such a time, Mercedes and Artie would be together to comfort each other.

"I've heard a lot of stories in our dorm building. It's all surrounded." Artie continued to massage his friend's back, comforting her. "I didn't want to believe any of them until I could talk to you. What happened, Cedes? What did they do with our Santana?"

"They shot her, that's all I know. Three shots. She came in critical condition and has been in surgery for over an hour."

"Oh God..."

"A nurse spoke to me. She said that's a good sign, you know? The delay. It's a sign that our girl is fighting."

"It's what she does best, Cedes. San fights like no one else."

"I hope she can fight at least until Brittany arrives."

"Did you call her?"

"Yes, I did."

"Smart girl," Artie sighed. "Cedes... they're saying it was Jenny. Is it true?"

"I don't know. I didn't have the will to investigate."

"San was shot inside your dormitory. They said it was her girlfriend... Jenny."

"I'd say Jen wouldn't be able to." Mercedes whined. She checked the cell phone vibrating in her coat pocket. "Quinn said she'll come as soon as she gets a nanny for Beth."

"Did Marley answer your message?"

"No, she didn't say anything."

"Well, the important thing is we're here."

...

"Jenny ..."

"I told you to shut up!" Jenny pointed the gun once more at the next passenger.

Rachel could recognize where they were going. She herself made that road a few times when she lived in the city. They were headed toward the huts and the natural reserve, which made sense, since if Jenny intended to kill her, a murder in the forest would prevent potential witnesses.

"You'd better calm down while there's still time," Rachel warned as they crossed the famous high bridge. "You need to know that I'm potentially more dangerous than Santana. You saw I almost knocked over a building with my powers."

Rachel would say to try to defend herself, but it was a truth. Her power was potentially far greater and more dangerous than any of the vigilantes. Unfortunately, she made no effort to train and control her potential, thinking it would disrupt her acting career. It was a mistake that was costing her dearly.

"Santana died," Jenny said with tears in her eyes. "And it was all your fault."

"Are you blaming me because you killed your girlfriend?" It wasn't that Rachel wasn't feeling the impact of the news, but it was obvious that she couldn't but be indignant at a completely uncontrolled woman who accused her of something absurd.

"If you hadn't, Santana would never have broken up with me."

"You're blaming someone who has never had a relationship with Santana beyond friendship. Santana was many things, womanizer, inclusive, but she was also a good friend. It was all she was to me: a good friend."

"A good friend who loved you!"

"If she loved me like that, it was never reciprocal on my part." Not entirely, Rachel added in thought. Because, yes, there was a part of her that wanted to match the vigilante's affections.

Jenny wept harder and got into the car on one of the several small dirt roads in the area that gave access to cabins and small farms. She stopped the vehicle in a little van on that ride where some used to park to get access to a trail to a fishing spot on the river. There was no one there at that time of day. All there was darkness, the sounds of the woods and a distant noise of the city.

"Get out."

"Jenny, you need to think better..."

"I said get out!" Jenny fired her gun at the windowpane.

Rachel flinched in fear. She could feel the fear running through her body rising. She could feel the tingling in her hands, the usual stinging in her eyes. Rachel was in conflict. Why hold onto Jenny? She supposedly killed Santana and would do the same to her. So why not just let it explode? There were no buildings or people around to feel the effects. The question that conflicted with Rachel's mind had a simple answer: because Rachel wasn't a killer, and all the damage she did in the past when she was discovering the powers was involuntary. Another reason was that, deep down, she hoped Santana and the vigilantes would come out of nowhere and save her.

Rachel got out of the car. She was at the edge of the control not to explode. She prayed for her life, for a miracle, and also for a breath of control.

When Jenny, crying, got out of the car and pointed the gun at her, the survival instinct was stronger.

...

Quinn arrived at the hospital almost at the same time as the doctor approached to give explanations to the friends who were there to receive the news. All she could do at that moment was to give Mercedes a quick hug and turn to the doctor.

"You're Miss Lopez's friends, correct?"

"Yes," Mercedes said urgently. "Doctor, she..."

"Santana arrived at the hospital in critical condition with three gunshot wounds. We took out three bullets: one pierced the left shoulder, one punctured the left lung and the other, for very little, didn't reach the heart. Her heart stops once during the surgery due to stress, but we were able to bring her back quickly. We have been able to repair the damage, but there have been significant traumas and recovery can be long."

"Then she survived!" Mercedes asked with tears in her eyes, in a mixture of relief and anguish.

"Yes, Miss Lopez is breathing with the help of the machines right now. She is fighting. But you need to understand that it will be a hell of fight that your friend has a battle ahead. We are here to help you. We will do everything possible and you can do the same by transmitting all the strength and faith that you can."

"Santana is a fighter, Doctor," Artie said with conviction.

"Yes she is. Did you get in touch with her parents?"

"Not yet. Santana's parents live in another city and their contact is on her cell phone... so..."

"Anyway, you should call them" the doctor pointed out.

"You don't look so optimistic, Doctor." Quinn frowned.

"It's her parents, Quinn." Artie touched her friend's arm. "Besides, Brittany is coming."

"Doctor, when can we see her?" Mercedes asked.

"She's sleeping under sedation in the recovery room. You will be able to see it when we transfer it to the room. If things go well, that should happen in a few hours."

The doctor said good-bye and the two women sat down on the bench with the wheelchair just in front of them.

"Who did this?" Quinn gritted her teeth.

"Apparently Jenny."

"I knew it!" Quinn punched the arm of the chair, catching the attention of other people in the waiting room. She held her own emotions and stared at her friends. "Has anyone heard from Rachel or Marley?"

"No." Artie was confused. "Should we?"

"If Jenny even shot Santana, her own girlfriend, I don't even want to think about what she can do if she takes revenge on her rivals."

"We need to move," Mercedes said urgently.

"Artie and I are going to take care of this. You stay here. Someone has to stay here with her."

"Besides, Cedes, Britt is coming," Artie recalled.

"Brittany is coming?" Quinn was visibly relieved. "Great... great... when Santana wakes up, we'll have a lot to discuss."

Quinn took the purse and wrote a message on her cell phone.

"Artie, call your friend. We have a job to do."

...

Rachel exploded. The windows of Jenny's car were broken, just like the headlights. The alarm went off, which was annoying. It was an act of desperation and survival. Rachel couldn't let herself be murdered for nothing without fighting. She had already suffered enough violence, enough traumas to accept other cattle. It was pitch black, but the moonlight allowed her to see Jenny's body on the floor. Rachel ran to the girl and checked the vital signs. Jenny was fainting, but alive.

What would Rachel have to do next? She considered some alternatives. She could leave Jenny there and run toward the highway to get out of there, or she could call for help for both. She took Jenny's gun and threw it away, then searched the car for a cell phone, since she had left hers at home. She rummaged through Jenny's bag. It was complicated to look for things inside a bag with so little light available. She found her cell phone and complained that it was password protected.

He heard a car approaching and ran to wave and ask for help. The car pulled up in front of Rachel, who was blinded for a moment by the high light. But she saw someone getting out of the car.

"Rachel Berry, it's been a while."

"Do I know you?"

"Yes, you can say we've met."

The shadow approached, and in the next moment, Rachel was out of breath.

...

It was dawn when Brittany woke Mercedes, who slept in an armchair beside the bed where Santana was lying. The journalist was frightened. How did Brittany come by the hospital security and entered the room? Then she remembered that her friend dancer was used to doing that kind of action while developing her own powers. Brittany gestured for Mercedes to remain silent and pointed to Santana still unconscious, intubated and monitored by machines.

"She took three shots. One passed near the heart and another pierced her lung," Mercedes explained whispering. "It's good to see you, Britt."

"Me too." Brittany nodded and smiled.

The dancer stood next to Santana, lifted the sheet and saw her friend's naked chest with a bandage that hid the huge scar. She could no longer make it disappear altogether, but it could have left only a discreet scar, like a line, in that beautiful body. Brittany rubbed her hands, which rose in a faint blue light. She put her palm against Santana's body and focused on healing.

Santana opened her eyes and began to cough a few minutes later. Brittany ran out of the room while Mercedes ran the nurse and the doctor on duty. The professionals arrived soon and for a moment they were in shock to see Santana awake. The doctor reacted quickly and began to remove the tube.

"I've never seen such a recovery after a trauma like this." The doctor marveled at the nurse and turned to the patient. "Miss Lopez. You are feeling discomfort in your throat, which is perfectly normal because of the tube. Try to breathe normally, okay?" The doctor took the oxygen mask and placed it on the vigilante's face. "We were optimistic about your recovery, but that's extraordinary."

"Doctor. That means... "

"That your friend will be fine," She told Mercedes, then turned to the patient. "You heard, Miss Lopez. You will be fine."

"And now?"

"The intravenous medication continues. The fact that she is breathing on account of even a perforation in the lung is a good sign. But we still have stages to overcome. I'll be back in the morning for a better evaluation."

Once the doctor and the nurse left the room, Brittany returned sneakily. Santana smiled at the favorite savior.

"I told you to take extra care since I wouldn't be around." Brittany snorted. "You're lucky I only go on tour next week."

"Thank you." Santana's voice came out hoarse and weak.

The vigilante grimaced, as if in pain. Her will was to yank all those needles out of the hospital. But she had to admit that she was still very weak and sleepy because of the medications. Brittany's healing was terrific, but there were steps in the recovery that Santana had to do on her own.

"San..." Mercedes approached the bed. "Who did this to you?"

"Jen." Santana pointed to the bottle. "Water. Please."

"What are we going to do with that crazy girl?" Mercedes sighed.

"No. I solve this."

"I'm sorry to say, San, but Quinn and Artie are hunting your ex-girlfriend through the city."

"No. Call them back."

"She tried to kill you. This can not go unpunished."

"Police solves this."

Santana shifted in bed and pointed again to the water bottle. Brittany gave it to her, and the liquid came down as a relief to Santana, who was with an uncomfortable taste of blood and gall in her mouth.

"Rest, San. Tomorrow there will be many questions to answer. "

Brittany touched Santana's hair and kissed her on the forehead. She looked at Mercedes and smiled.

"Go home and rest, Cedes. I'll stay here with her."

Mercedes nodded gratefully at the chance to pull herself together. On leaving the hospital, she typed messages for the team, summoning everyone to the apartment, the center of operations. It was there that everyone should go to rest and talk. Mercedes herself would hate to go back to the dormitory. She didn't want to see Santana's blood on the floor.


	9. Chapter 9

Rachel woke up feeling a terrible discomfort in her body. It was very cold and it looked like she had slept on a gravel bed. In the next second, she understood that the bed was really gravel. It was still dark, Rachel's clothes were wet from falling drizzle. The memory of the last events came to mind. Jenny kidnapped her, drove her out of town and onto the fishermen trail, Jenny pointed the gun at her, and... yes, Rachel exploded. The actress looked around. Jenny's car was there with the windows broken and the side of the body a little dented. Rachel sat up and looked around. Jenny was also there, lying still.

The first ray of light showed up the sky, gradually changing the dark blue tonality. Rachel got up. She had a terrible pain in her body. Jenny did not move. What was happening? Rachel considered taking the chance and getting out of there. What would she have to win by staying and helping a psychotic neurotic woman who claims to have killed her own girlfriend? Yes, Rachel wasn't yet convinced that Santana Lopez was dead. She herself had already seen the vigilante resist for minutes to a fatal wound til the help came, so why not survive Jenny?

A siren sounded in the distance, which made Rachel got up. The noise grew in proportion to her hope. It was the police, finally. Rachel ran out onto the road, waving her arms, wanting to make herself known.

"Help, help!"

The police car stopped and a policeman came down.

"What happened?" He asked.

"A madwoman kidnapped me and tried to kill me. She's right over there."

The second cop went to Jenny, who didn't move. He knelt beside her and signaled to his companion.

"Call the ambulance." He shouted at his companion. "We have a woman wounded."

"Is she okay?" Rachel asked. She knew people could get serious hurt when she exploded without direction. Kurt was a victim of that in the previous year.

"You must come with me to the police station, miss."

"Why? S-She kidnapped me."

"Do you know this woman?"

"Yes, Jenny... Jennifer something. She's the girlfriend of a friend of mine."

"Has anyone else been with you two?"

"Not that I remember..." Rachel shook her head. "No... no one else was with us. All I know is that this crazy woman confessed to killing her own girlfriend and kidnapped me to try to do the same."

Another sign between the cops, and the one closest to Rachel held her tightly by the arm.

"Ms..."

"Berry. Rachel Berry. "

"Miss Rachel Berry, you must go with us."

...

Mercedes woke with the movement in front of the room where Santana was. There was no sign of Brittany there anymore, which was not bad, since the dancer had entered clandestinely. The journalist looked to the side and saw that Santana was still asleep, which was natural and expected, since the body of the vigilante still needed rest to complete the cure, and that she was still under the effect of drugs. Mercedes threw aside the sheet that covered her and rose from her chair, ran her hand over her face, her hair, and opened the wide door of the room to go the toilet outside. Mercedes came across a police officer arguing with a nurse and a doctor about something that apparently was about Santana. Maybe it was something related to the assassination attempt, but soon Mercedes understands it was something beyond.

"What's going on?" Mercedes asked. The police officer tried to speak, but the doctor and the nurse imposed on him again.

"The patient will only say something when she is conscious and fit." The doctor finished.

While Mercedes nodded in appreciation for the gesture of hospital staff, her journalistic instinct was fired. She walked over to the police officer at the end of the hall.

"Detective?"

The police officer stopped walking and turned to the journalist, who was no stranger to him, since Mercedes frequented the police department for reports. But that would be the first time they would talk directly.

"Miss Jones." The detective greeted her. "I knew you would be far more reasonable than the staff at this hospital."

"You're the one in my friend's case, right? Was there any progress? Did you catch Jenny?"

"Jenny... oh... Do you mean Miss Jennifer Briston?"

"Yes, this Jennifer."

"Miss Jones, could you confirm the nature of the relationship between Miss Briston and Miss Lopez?"

"You want me to confirm information without an official statement?" It wasn't at all bad to respond, but Mercedes wanted to show the police that she knew very well how the system worked and that the detective couldn't make a fool of her.

"Well, that may be a courtesy between an exchange of future courtesies, since I know of your good relationship with some of my colleagues."

"I'll remember that, Detective. Remember that we are talking of record here." The detective nodded and Mercedes proceeded. "Santana and Jenny had a relationship of a few years, which was recently ended."

"Do you think this may have been Miss Briston's motivation in targeting Miss Lopez?"

"I don't know. What's your theory?"

"That doesn't sound like a good strategy for information exchange, Miss Jones."

"The cases I investigate as a journalist do not involve my best friend."

"Fair enough." The detective nodded. "There are a plenty of witnesses who suggest that Miss Briston tried to kill Miss Lopez. That is not the point here. What I need to understand are the motivations. A few days ago, Miss Lopez was arrested because of a restaurant fight. Witnesses said that Miss Lopez assaulted Miss Briston after Miss Briston said that Miss Lopez was the vigilante."

"Jenny was angry with Santana. The end of the relationship between them wasn't in common agreement. Jenny has always been possessive, and faithfulness has never been Santana's best virtue. Things had been bad for some time, and when Santana finally had the guts to end the relationship, that's when it all happened."

"Has Miss Lopez ever have aggressive behavior? Or have her demonstrated unusual abilities?"

"Santana is a great drawer and has great talent in getting into trouble for being a womanizer. If a Don Juan's abilities enable her to be one of those vigilantes, I don't know. Jenny had a fixation for this vigilante as a lot of people I know, but I can say that Santana is a normal girl. She has a sharp tongue, true, but I've never seen Santana in a fistfight or holding a car. So, the answer is no, Detective. Santana is not that aggressive person. I heard about the restaurant fight. What I can say is that for Santana to have reached that point, it's because she was on the edge."

"Miss Jones. Can you tell me if Miss Lopez knew Rachel Berry?"

"What does Berry have to do with all this?"

Mercedes was suspicious. What if there was any safety image of Rachel expressing her powers? That would be a problem. Seeing that Mercedes would stop the off-record collaboration, the detective opened the game a bit more.

"Miss Briston mentioned Rachel Berry in the testimony she left in the police days ago." The deposition was true, but the detective was working with some other information that he wouldn't share with the journalist.

"We all did amateur theater together last year. Santana, Artie and I. That's where we met Rachel Berry." Mercedes frowned. She sensed something was going on with the sudden question about Rachel Berry.

"Can you tell if Miss Lopez has ever had a relationship with Rachel Berry?"

"We are all friends. Maybe Santana and Rachel had a flirtation at some point, but that didn't last."

"Thank you, Miss Jones."

"Detective… why Rachel Berry?" Mercedes insisted.

"We can talk about it later, Miss Jones."

The detective nodded and headed for the hospital exit. Mercedes knew there was something wrong besides the attempted murder. She made mention of following him, but at the same moment she saw Quinn and Brittany entering through the properly accredited hallway. Quinn still wore the black pants that were part of the vigilante uniform.

"Hi." Quinn was the first to greet Mercedes. Her face was flushed and tired. "She woke up?"

"Not yet." Mercedes looked behind Quinn's shoulder to see if she could still find the detective. No sign of him anymore. "How was it yesterday?"

"Unproductive". Quinn replied. "The murder attempt was recorded and Jenny was considered a fugitive. George monitored the cop's radio communications while Artie and I did some searching where we thought Jenny would be. It didn't work."

"Did you look for Rachel?"

"Should we?"

Mercedes was uneasy. Her instinct told her she should run to the police department.

"You guys keep an eye on Santana. I need to do something."

Quinn just stared at Mercedes. She was too tired and needed to go home for Beth and rest a little bit. The ice queen only returned to the hospital after the round because she needed to see how Santana was and give in-person feedback to Mercedes, who also spent the night in clear, before going home. She met Brittany by chance at the hospital door. The two hugged, Brittany spoke quickly about the cure and they got in the hospital, registering at the gate. That's when they met Mercedes.

Quinn and Brittany entered the small room and found the doctor examining her friend. The doctor was clearly confused.

"How's she doing?" Quinn asked.

"Exceptionally well for someone who was shot and faced a high risk emergency surgery in less than 24 hours."

"Miracles happen!" Brittany responded as if everything were normal. And it was for her.

"These miracles happened a few times until last year." The doctor said more to herself than to the two women in front of her. "I'll ask the nurses to take off some of the medicines. If miss Lopez continues to getting better like that, she may be at home at the end of the day."

"That's great news, doctor." Quinn replied, feigning surprise.

"I'll leave you with her. Beep when she wakes up."

As soon as the doctor left the room, Santa opened her eye. She had been pretending to sleep from the time the nurse arrived to pick up a blood sample.

"Hi." Santana whispered to Brittany and Quinn. Her voice was hoarse.

"Hi San." Brittany came over and took her hand.

"How are you feeling?" Quinn asked.

"Thirsty... my throat hurts... my mouth is bitter... I'm all aching... without strength."

"Your body just needs some time to complete the healing process." Brittany said.

"I remember how it is, Britt ... Thank you one more time."

"I'm glad you did, Lopez." Quinn stepped forward to stand beside Brittany.

"Thank you, Fabray."

"I patrolled last night. I couldn't find Jenny. The police is after her as well."

"She must... have run away."

"Marley came to see you?" Quinn continued to ask.

"Not that I know."

"Weird. She disappeared from the map."

"Who's Marley?" Brittany asked.

"Our watchtower and occasional San's mistress." Quinn replied rolling her eyes.

"Marley must be with her new toy." Santana straightened her body and turned her face away. "I want to get out of here."

"This is out of question, Lopez." Quinn warned. "You won't do anything for the next 48 hours."

"Since when do you give me orders, Fabray?"

"Since when did I become second in command. It means I'll tell you when you're gone."

Santana tried to laugh but began to cough and to feel pain. Then she stilled, accepting her friend's insolence. The leader turned aside and closed her eyes. Despite Brittany's cure, the damage she suffered was too severe. The recovery would take time and she would need a day or two to stand up again. Brittany sat down in the chair as Quinn picked up her cell phone to check a message she had just received. It was Artie, and his message made Quinn shiver: "Jenny is dead and Rachel is arrested."

...

"That's a mistake!" Rachel was handcuffed to a table inside the interrogation room. "I did not kill Jenny! She kidnapped me! I'm the victim here!" Rachel raged.

The police officer issued the arrest warrant and took Rachel to the police department after Jenny's death was confirmed. Because Jenny was being sought after by Santana Lopez, the officer was willing to believe that the act Rachel had allegedly committed had been in self-defense. First, however, it was necessary to clarify, but Rachel's hysteria didn't help.

"Miss Berry. As long as you don't calm down, we can not clarify what happened. You'd better collaborate."

"I didn't kill Jenny! That woman is crazy!"

"Please calm down."

"No!" Rachel punched the solid wood table reversed in aluminum. "I did nothing! That crazy woman kidnapped me! I'm not going to get arrested because of that bitch!"

"Miss Berry..." The police officer stared at the enraged young woman and was startled by her red eyes.

...

Mercedes arrived at the police department on an uncharacteristically agitated morning. She saw the detective that approached her at the hospital, along with a few colleagues who were looking for some staff or were in some investigation. None of these people were different from the usual landscape of the police department, except for two people. Mercedes walked over to them.

"Artie! And..."

"George." The young Indian descending man smiled. The journalist, who was good at keeping names and physiognomies, for some reason could not keep the name of Artie's colleague. "What happened?"

"You won't believe it, but it looks like Jenny's dead," Artie said confidentially.

"What?" Mercedes brought her hand to her mouth. "My God!" Although she had never liked Jenny, and that Santana's ex-girlfriend had always treated her in an indifferent and unfriendly way, Jenny was still a person Mercedes knew for years and was part of the everyday landscape. The journalist put her hand to her mouth. "Santana will freak out."

"Artie said the same thing a few minutes ago," George commented. He was the newcomer to the team and had no idea of the whole complex of relationships that existed between them.

"You don't know the worst: we saw Rachel pass just now. It seems she's a suspect."

"Santana will definitely freak out. Did you warn anyone? Quinn?"

"I sent a message to her."

Mercedes picked up her cell phone and began to type a message. The instruction was that whatever happened, Quinn couldn't tell Santana at all. Not for now.

"We need a plan. We need Marley and her lawyer friend." Mercedes furiously typed another note for Marley inside others not yet seen by the watchtower.

"You need to calm down." George gripped the two friends. "The worst thing they can do is make decisions in the heat of their emotions..."

Suddenly, some of the windows of the building burst, causing all three, as well as other people, to lower and protect the head from the shrapnel. In the next moment, there was a silence caused by perplexity. It was as if a bomb had burst inside the building. Artie and Mercedes looked at each other and did not have to say a word to understand what the other was thinking: Rachel could not stand the pressure.

...

Rachel looked around and saw the damage she'd just done. The detective was unconscious, the lamp was broken, the room door was open and damaged, the bulletproof glass/mirror was cracked and the cuff was torn. Rachel thought about the options she had. Despite the lack of control she had some training and knew how to direct the energy. Maybe she could run away. She seized the moment of confusion and ran. Rachel saw that the cops were all confused, and tried to take advantage. A police officer pointed at the gun and Rachel gestured with her hands, releasing energy. There was an exit at the back of the police station, where she ran. She heard screams and voices behind her, then turned as soon as she reached the door and released enough energy to destroy part of the wall and obstruct the passage. The actress got into one of the police cars. Some cop left the keys inside the glove compartment. Rachel started the ignition and stepped on the accelerator, almost running over no one but Mercedes on the way. What followed would promise to be a spectacular pursuit, but two cars blocked the runaway, and Rachel's impulse would end at that moment.

"Get out of the car slowly with your hands up!" The cops surrounded the car.

Rachel thought of options and odds. In her head, the most obvious case would be that she would die if she resisted. She held up her hands, but remained seated. A police officer came up with the stun gun in his hand, opened the door and pulled her out of the car. Rachel fell to the floor, grated her arm and chin. Those people didn't care anymore.

"Stay still, vigilante." A police officer placed a knee on her back, pressed her face to the cement floor, which was painful, and handcuffed her hands behind her back.

The cops brutally picked her up and carried her back to the building. Mercedes, Artie and George accompanied everything without being able to react or do anything. The veterans were worried about the situation. Even though Rachel was innocent, she had just signed a blank confession of guilt.

"We must call Marley now." Artie panicked.

"No." Mercedes held her friend close. "We're going to help Rachel later. Now we have something more important to worry about."

"What for example?"

"As how the leader will react to the news."

...

It was an uncomfortable scene to witness. A young adult woman was crying copiously when she heard news of her ex-girlfriend who, a little over 24 hours earlier, had tried to kill her. The detective wanted to ask questions, but at the young woman's cry, he was embarrassed. Even Mercedes, who had returned to the hospital, didn't know how to report the second part of the story. Regardless of all the problems, Santana loved Jenny. The nearly four years of a relationship of many comings and goings was only possible because, after all, there was love.

"You'd better leave," Mercedes warned.

"I'm just here to clear up some facts."

"No. You're here to find out if Santana has something to do with Rachel Berry. "

"As far as I know, you're not a lawyer, Miss Jones." The detective threatened, eager to take advantage of the victim's emotional frailty to clarify one of the most important investigations into a professional in that city.

"But I am." Ryder Lynn had arrived at the hospital next to Marley. "Miss Lopez is my client, Detective. You will only speak to her from now on with a mandate, if she is formally accused of anything."

"Sure." The detective offered a business card to the lawyer. "If you change your mind."

Mercedes breathed again as the detective headed for the hospital exit. The journalist thanked the lawyer before pulling Marley aside.

"Where were you? We sent messages made crazy."

"I was with Ryder, okay? I turned off my cell phone. Excuse me. I came as soon as I saw the messages."

"It's okay... the important thing is we should be together right now."

"What are we going to do for Rachel?" Artie asked.

"We will not forget her. We just have to let the leader live the mourning for at least one day."


	10. Chapter 10

"For the umpteenth time ... No!"

Rachel was getting tired of answering the same questions over and over again. All she knew was that she was very tired, with a terrible headache, and in a place she wasn't sure where it was in the police department. She was handcuffed, sitting in a room that seemed very much to be part of the basement, judging by the set of stairs. There was an officer in a shabby suit asking questions, a black woman who also appeared to be a detective in one corner of the room, and two other armed police officers, ready to shoot if necessary.

"Who is the other vigilante? Is it Santana Lopez?"

"I'm not a vigilante... I only have those powers that I don't want..."

"Santana Lopez is the vigilante?"

"No." Even worse, Rachel still clung to a loyalty census with friends with superhuman powers. She knew they were the best chance she had.

"Why are you protecting Santana Lopez?"

"Santana is just my friend."

"Who is the vigilante?"

"I don't know."

"Santana Lopez is the leader of the vigilantes?"

"She is my friend."

"For who you work?"

"I work at the Corcoran Theater Company."

"Who do you work for?" The agent punched the table and yelled into Rachel's ear.

"Please..." The actress began to cry. "I just want to go home... I didn't kill Jenny. I swear! She kidnapped me and she was hysterical, with a gun pointed at me... Please... Jenny was crazy and I just wanted to be alone..."

"Who's the vigilante you help?" The officer continued to scream, raising the pressure.

"I don't know..."

"Santana Lopez is the vigilante?"

"No..."

"Are you the vigilante?"

"No..."

"You knocked that building over!"

"No... please..." Rachel continued to cry. "I'm not the vigilante, I'm not part of the team... I just want to go home... please, can I call my dads?"

"So the vigilantes are a team?"

"I don't know..."

"Who are they?"

"I don't know..."

"Is Santana Lopez the vigilante?"

"No..."

"Why do you protect Santana Lopez?"

"I'm not..."

"Why did you bring down that building?"

"I didn't drop..."

"What is your name?"

"I don't know..." Rachel cried even harder.

"Damn it, Berry! I swear you won't leave here until you give me something."

"Please..." Rachel cried compulsively. "I want to go home... I just want to go home... I swear I'll be quiet... please..."

"Berry!" The agent made mention of further increasing the pressure, but was restrained by the other agent. She saw Rachel's eyes change color and she thought it was time to change the strategy.

"James, you better stop for a while."

The man stepped back from the actress at the table. In the background, everyone there was afraid that that girl would use her powers again. Although they were literally in the basement of the police department, in the storage room, which was theoretically the most solid place in the building, they were afraid. Rachel was crying and wasn't paying attention to what the two detectives were talking about, but she was grateful when James withdrew from the room with the other two armed police officers, leaving her alone with the female detective. The woman sat down in front of Rachel and waited for the actress to calm down. Then she gently offered a glass of water, which Rachel gladly received.

"It's all right. James may exaggerate a bit, but he's not a bad person."

"It's not what it looks like."

"Keep calm. Breathe." The detective smiled at Rachel and was silent until the young woman's eyes returned to normal. Then, she opened a small smile and said softly. "You don't control it, do you?"

"What?" Rachel wiped away her tears.

"Your powers. You don't know how to control them."

"Not much. I try... I swear I try hard... but there are times when it's best to let the wave go."

"That's why you're not a vigilante," the detective said with conviction.

"Of course I'm not," she answered sloppily, then turned back to the conversation. "Then you know I'm not a vigilante!"

"I've been studing the vigilantes' performance for few months. They are coordinated, trained. Everything you don't seem to be." The detective allowed herself to laugh.

"No... I don't have that kind of coordination."

"Yes. But tell me, Rachel... can I call you Rachel? "

"Yes."

"Tell me, Rachel, why would Jennifer Briston attack you after trying to murder Santana Lopez? What did you do?"

"Nothing. I did nothing. I swear! I came back home because I needed to have some peace... things in the metropolis are difficult and I just wanted to be quiet in my little corner of the world. But the very first day I found Santana and Jenny, and everything that happened later was downhill."

"Have you and Santana Lopez been... intimate in any way?"

"Yes." Rachel confessed, letting herself be carried away by the friendly conversation and the soft voice of the detective. "We kissed a few times last year. I terminate a long relationship I had in part because of her. But that was in the past."

"Did Miss Briston know that you and Miss Lopez had an involvement?"

"Apparently yes."

"Rachel, have you ever been intimate with the vigilante at all?"

"I..." Rachel looked at the detective and choked.

James, the detective, entered the room, interrupting the friendlier conversation. He whispered at her colleague's ear before signaling to the entrance of two people in the makeshift interrogation room.

"Anne, these are..."

"Hadi, George Hadi. And this is my assistant, Miss Fabray. We're here as Miss Berry's lawyers."

"Okay, so you can follow the interrogation." Anne tested the waters.

"No more interrogations. My client will not say another word at all."

Rachel didn't know who this man of Indian descent was, but she knew Quinn Fabray very well, and her presence warmed Rachel's heart. The vigilantes didn't abandon her.

"Detective, if you'll excuse me, we have the right to talk to our client alone."

Anne was suspicious. She knew most of the city's lawyers, from the most expensive to the chain-linkers. She had never seen those two, not to mention that they seemed to be as young as Rachel Berry, so it seemed unlikely they'd had time to complete law school. Then she looked at Rachel, who seemed to have gained a new life by seeing them. Maybe it was for the good of all that she pretended to have believed that story.

"Okay. You have 15 minutes to talk to your... client."

As the detective withdrew, Quinn hugged Rachel briefly before sitting down in front of her friend.

"I don't know yet how we'll get you out of this, but know we're thinking of a way." Quinn assured her and looked at her friend. "Oh, and this is George. He's new in the team."

"Santana..."

"She's alive. Okay... I mean, Jenny really shot her. But San was rescued in time, operated and Brittany also came to town."

"My parents... they know I' here?"

"Everyone knows, Rach. It's on all the news. Let's deal with them as soon as possible. Now pay attention. Pay close attention to what I'm going to say. I know I'm not a lawyer, that I'm a distance-learning student to be a paralegal. So I don't know much yet, but I know enough about this kind of case. There are no specific laws for persons with powers, or to prosecute vigilantes. At least, not yet. They can not treat you differently from anyone else. They can not send you to a military complex, for example. But you were formally charged with murder, and you practically blew up a building with dozens of witnesses. You will have to answer judicially about all of this. You will have a hearing in two or three days that will determine bail and the possibility of you answer freely. We won't be able to represent you because nobody here has a license and we won't be able to fool the cops any longer. I'm sure your parents will want to pay a lawyer for their trust, which is more than okay, but we won't abandon you. We are already investigating what happened. And as soon as Santana recover, I know she'll do anything to get you out of here."

"Not if I really killed Jenny," Rachel lamented.

"Rachel, how it happened?"

"She was going to shoot me and I exploded… I think. Remember what happened to Kurt? It could have been the same with her: Jenny may have died of internal bleeding."

"Rachel, nothing has yet been released about Jenny's death report. Don't draw conclusions."

"But what if I..."

"It doesn't matter what you think. You won't say another word, you won't sign any documents without the presence of a lawyer, us or any other person. Understood?"

"Yes."

Quinn stood up and kissed Rachel on the forehead before leaving with the detective and George.

"Don't forget what I said. We'll get you out of this. Stay strong."

...

Santana was uncomfortable during Jenny's funeral. She felt immense sadness over her ex-girlfriend's death, and experiencing mourning wasn't an easy task. There, in the graveyard, accompanied by Mercedes and Artie, with Marley and Ryder further afield, it was extremely uncomfortable to face the glares that some of Jenny's relatives directed against her. The press had made some assumptions about the case. It was suppositions that Jenny went mad with her girlfriend's successive betrayals, which even had an affair with one of the vigilantes, Rachel Berry. Santana ended up being related as a villain in those narratives. The theory of Sue Sylvester went further: the journalist wrote a story that Santana Lopez was in fact the vigilante, and made quite credible comparisons based especially on the famous videos of the bridge accident. But the fact was that Santana was the person shot, she wasn't accused of anything, and she wasn't obliged to give testimony other than as a witness. However, she gave a single statement to reporters who gathered in the hospital door the day she left: "If I had special powers, I would have stopped Jenny before she shot me, I would have prevented her from confronting Rachel Berry. That's it".

When the coffin came down, the pain was even greater. Santana couldn't contain her tears, and Mercedes gently placed her hands on her friend's shoulders in comfort. Jenny was now six feet under. What a waste of talent and a bright future ahead. Jenny's obsessive madness of the last days of her life didn't say anything about how a smart person she was. Santana knew her ex-girlfriend was much more than a jealous woman: Jenny was humorous, sophisticated, beautiful, and could talk about anything with a sharp and unique perception. Even when Jenny was gratuitously mean and cruel, that didn't make her less interesting. And they had the sex. No matter how much they fought, they understood each other in bed. The chemistry was undeniable.

The trio decided to leave the place. As they walked through the green field and among some of the tombstones, a man reached the trio. It was a gray-haired man that Santana vaguely remembered seeing in the photos of Jenny's cell phone inside the family's archive.

"Miss Lopez?"

"Yes?"

"I'm John Bennet, Jenny's uncle."

"My condolences, Mr. Bennet." Santana greeted him.

"Thank you, Lopez. I think I should also extend my condolences to you, after all, you have had an important presence in our Jen's life these past few years."

"Yes. Jenny was a very important person to me. I loved her."

"The fact that you're here to pay your respect to Jen is proof of that. How's it going?" The man pointed at Santana's shoulder and at her arm resting on a type because of the shots that hit her on the left shoulder. Santana didn't need the device, but she had to give the impression that she was recovering as a normal person.

"That? It's over."

"I'm grateful. Miss Lopez, I'm here at the request of my sister. She'd like to talk to you in private. You'd mind going to my sister's house today?"

Santana looked quickly at Mercedes and at Artie. She was confused.

"I could, but..."

"This is not a trap, Miss Lopez. My sister would just like to talk to you away from the media circus that has become this tragedy."

"It's all right. I'll go."

"I'm happy with your understanding and sensitivity." He handed a card to Santana. "This is the adress. Come in at the appointed time."

"Could you accompany me?" Santana asked her friends.

"Sure," Mercedes said. The moment was to give the emotional support that Santana needed on a sad day.

...

The house Jenny used to live in was a small mansion in one of the most valued urban areas of her hometown. Santana had been in that house on two occasions, and had not had many positive memories.

"Jenny really had money!" Mercedes said impressed by the luxury. She, like Artie and Santana, from humble families, scholars, were not accustomed to places of high society.

Santana looked at the house as she stepped out of the taxi and sighed before ringing the intercom. She felt stupid enough to identify herself knowing that there was a security camera high above their heads.

"This is Santana Lopez." She answered the voice and, seconds later, she heard the sound of the gate being unlocked.

The house, as expected, was in a certain movement. Audrey, Jenny's mother, was the true matriarch of the family, while Robert, the father, was a bon vivant playboy. Jenny's older brother was a well-meaning fellow who tried to live without the help of his parents' money, but he wasn't very good at taking care of himself. The younger sister was getting ready to leave the house and go to college the following semester. Everyone was at home at that time, along with other people close to the family. They all cast hostile glances at Santana, Mercedes, and Artie.

"Santana!" John Bennet received the trio. "Audrey is waiting for you."

Mercedes gave a small smile to her friend and waved, seeking confidence. Santana could be the leader, the vigilante, but at that moment she was just a frail young woman receiving undesirable media attention and with many problems to solve. She followed Bennet to the office, which opened the door, revealing the family matriarch staring out the window with a glass of drink in one hand. She looked like a mafia.

"It's rude not to show your condolences and respect to the family." Audrey said with her back still facing Santana. She turned almost casually and sat down in the office chair.

"I didn't want to bother. I just wanted to say goodbye to Jenny."

"I wouldn't take away your right. After all, how long you and my daughter were together?"

"Almost four years, between comings and goings."

"Yes... almost four years." Audrey stared at Santana with blue glacial eyes. "Sit down, please."

Santana, still hesitant, sat down in the armchair in front of Audrey.

"Do you want a drink?" The woman asked.

"No, thank you. I can not mix alcoholic beverages with antibiotics." Santana pointed to her own arm.

"Of course." Audrey looked at Santana as if she wanted to see the woman's soul and pull it out with her eyes. "I haven't seen you in a long time. What was the last time?"

"It was about six months ago, at your husband's birthday party. I believe you referred to me as the half-breed of the ghetto that was luck enough to have a scholarship in a fine college."

"Hmm." Audrey drank some more, feeling no embarrassment in what she had said, because to the matriarch it was the truest truth. "My daughter took this relationship with you too seriously. She paid the most expensive price that can exist... I paid the most expensive price that can exist."

"Mrs. Briston, my relationship with Jenny wasn't good for a long time. When I broke up with her, she didn't accept it. I'm sorry for the outcome of this story. I regret bitterly for what I told her before Jenny shot me. I wonder if maybe I said I loved her, none of this would have happened. But Jenny died and the last thing I said to her was that I hated her." Santana wiped away the tears that were coming out. "I'm so sorry."

"I didn't ask you to come here at my house to hear your apologies," Audrey said in a icy tone.

Santana was shocked and muted for a few seconds. That woman had buried her own daughter a few hours ago, and she already looked like the personification of Don Vito Corleone.

"Then why else would you bother? You've never been the kind of person to do something for no good reason."

"Yes, I have a reason. I just don't know if it's good enough to have you here." The woman opened a drawer and placed a jewelry box on the table. It was obvious that it was a ring box. Santana looked at the object, but didn't dare to open or touch it. "Jenny bought this before went to your damn town in those days that preceded all this tragedy. She was talking about marriage."

"Mrs. Briston, as I said, my relationship with Jenny was bad for a long time. Honestly, such a commitment wouldn't fix anything. I don't know what she was thinking."

"Obviously she wasn't thinking at all. Marry you?"

"I would have said no."

"At least in one thing I would agree with you. My Jeniffer was in a position to find a better woman to her."

"If there is one thing I admire you and your family is the fact that you have accepted Jenny's sexuality well."

"This is a traditional family, Lopez. It's not the same as primitive." Mrs. Briston allowed herself a little relaxation in the armchair. "It wasn't a comfortable situation when my Jen introduced her first girlfriend, but she was what she was. I would never love her less."

"I'm glad to hear this."

"May I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Was Jen so wrong because she felt threatened by this Rachel Berry? Do you love this Rachel girl?"

"Rachel Berry is my friend... and an one sided platonic love. I don't have and wouldn't stand a chance with her. Jenny tried to take revenge on an ideal, not on the real thing."

"So there's somebody else?"

"There was. But that's also over."

"Well... I hope you have taken some lessons from this tragedy, Miss Lopez. Could you take this piece of junk? I don't want anything that is yours or that remotely reminds you inside this house. Take it and do what you want with that thing."

Santana took the ring box and opened it. She frowned, arousing the curiosity of the lady in front of her.

"What is it?" The woman said irritably.

"There's nothing here." Santana showed the box.

"How not? Are you by chance blind too? It's the most vulgar and cheap ring I've ever seen."

Santana ran her finger inside the box and felt there was an object there. But she wasn't seeing the ring. It wasn't the first time this had happened, and the reason made a terrible shiver run down her spine.

"Mrs. Briston, do you have any idea where Jenny got this ring? Did she mention anything?"

"Not. Probably in some fifth-rate pawn shop."

"All right... thank you very much, Mrs. Briston. Once again, I regret that it all ended that way. Jenny was one of the most important people in my life, I really loved her, and I'm very sorry that things didn't work out between us and ended up in that tragic way. My condolences."

Santana grabbed the box and walked out of the office as fast as she could. She found Mercedes and Artie almost pinned down in one corner of the room. The vigilante pulled the two friends out of the house and, once in the street, already searching an uber, Mercedes finally took her friend and made her breathe.

"What's it? Did Jenny's mother threaten you in any way?"

"No." Santana took a deep breath and showed the open box of the ring to her friends.

"This is an empty ring box." Artie said what seemed obvious to him.

"It's not empty," Santana explained to her friend. "And that didn't come into our hands by chance. We'd better get ready for the storm that's coming."


	11. Chapter 11

Quinn followed with concern the negotiation process between the prosecutor who sued Rachel for damages to a public building and charged her with manslaughter in the Jennifer Briston case. The promoters were also pressing her on denounce Santana Lopez. In Quinn's mind it was very clear that the detectives knew Santana was the vigilante, but there was no concrete evidence against her. All they had were hypothesis that did make sense. It lacked a proof, a denunciation, any small thing that could justify a summons or even, with luck, a request of arrest.

"Four years in prison." The prosecutor offered. "Declare yourself guilty and hand over to the vigilante that you will only get four years in prison, with the possibility of conditional after two years."

"What if I plead guilty, but I don't say a word about the vigilante?"

The prosecutor quickly moved the papers and grunted.

"Nine years in prison." The prosecutor began to play with his pen, as if it was a nervous tic that he had in the middle of negotiations and said without looking at Rachel. "You're an actress, Rachel. An acting career requires youth if you want to make it enduring. It makes all the difference that you can take it back at age 24 than at age 28. I must also remind you that if we go to trial without reaching an agreement, you run the risk of serving 30 years in prison for Jennifer Briston's murder. I doubt very much that you would have a career after that."

"How can I take the blame for a murder that I don't even have certainty that I committed? And if I caused Jenny's death, it was self-defense. Don't forget she kidnapped me and threatened to kill me after shooting her own girlfriend!" Rachel said.

"Jennifer died with a perforation in her spleen from behind. It was not because of my client's superhuman power." Ryder Lynn showed the evidence report again. "The murder weapon wasn't even found. You're going to have to offer something better than that."

The prosecutor leaned back in his chair and grunted. He had to admit that it would be very difficult to condemn Rachel. The defense lawyer had an important point, and the circumstances of the case indicated self-defense. There was no denying that there were enough witnesses to see Jenny leave Santana's room after firing her girlfriend. In spite of the persecution of the police, the vigilante had popular support. Rachel Berry didn't. That was the only advantage they would have before the jury. That's why the prosecution wanted to force an agreement.

"Rachel?" Lynn turned to his client. "You don't have to decide anything yet. At that first court hearing you will plead guilty or innocent, the judge will establish a bail and the date of the trial will be marked. Until then, you still have some time to decide what to do, but we would like to hear what you have in mind."

Rachel exchanged glances with Quinn. There was pride and fear in the actress's expression.

"I am innocent. Jenny kidnapped me and coerced me. It's true that I got out of control and exploded, but if you don't prove that she died because of my power, then there is no reason why I should make any agreement when, in fact, I am the victim."

Quinn nodded to Rachel. It was good to hear the actress have a little lucidity in the midst of chaos. That was good news.

…

"There's nothing wrong with Jenny's social networks." Mercedes said in frustration. "Nothing but pictures of her with you, with family and with friends."

Santana glanced at the various printed photographs to investigate. She, Artie, Mercedes and George were all focused on finding out how Martinez's ring came to rest in Jenny's hands. There were photos and more photos scattered around the floor of the apartment, along with numerous tags identifying each of the people appearing on the social networks of Jenny and her family.

"And the dossier about Jenny's business partners..." Santana frowned at the name of the newest member of the group.

"George! My name is George", the inventor said impatiently.

"Whatever. Do you already have the dossier or not?"

"No one files a file in fifteen minutes, Lopez," George complained. "Not even with my tracking tool."

Santana grunted loudly and turned her attention back to the frame set with the clues the group found. Point one: Martinez was still in jail. But as a man endowed with powers of mental manipulation and limited telepathy, he could create mechanisms to articulate a plan of revenge even within behind the bars. That was clear to Santana. She glanced at the pictures and documents. She looked at the pictures of Jenny and Rachel. In fact, she felt that the two of them were out of control somehow. Jenny was more jealous and possessive than usual. Rachel had her powers uncontrolled. Santana glanced at the photos and tried to find some connection. Any of them.

"What about Rachel's social networks?" Santana asked the team. "Have you checked to see if there's anyone in common between her and Jenny? Anyone?"

"Besides you?" Artie showed Santana that Rachel and Jenny's profiles had her as a mutual friend in the social networking framework. "How could Jenny have known me for so long and never add me to Facebook or anywhere else?" Artie said not necessarily feeling offended.

"Jenny was selective and snobby until then." Santana said without taking her eyes off the monitor. "There has to be some connection. Martinez, Holly... what's Holly doing these days? I mean, her husband is in jail and convicted of Grant's murder. She knows about all of us." She looked at George. "About almost all of us."

"Holly is not in town anymore," Artie insisted.

"Since when is that decisive?" Santana said impatiently. Mercedes and Artie exchanged glances, as if they had missed something. "What?" The leader looked at her best friends.

"It must be nothing." Artie frowned. "Holly didn't open a law firm in another city after Martinez was convicted?" The flyer began to access some pages on the internet. "I'll take a look at the profile of members and customers. Maybe we can find some clues."

"Do this, please." Santana took the coat and walked to the door.

"Where are you going?" Mercedes asked.

"Going talk to Rachel."

"Santana, that would be risky."

"I can't work, I can't study for the final exams, I can't do anything but get stuck in this apartment away from the eyes of the public and the press. In the meantime, my friend is arrested and may be thinking that I've turned my back on her."

"Quinn, Ryder and Marley are with Rachel. She knows she's not alone and you haven't turned your back."

"Maybe, Cedes. But this is too comfortable to me. I know that protecting our identity is important, but at what cost?"

"It costs us to be arrested!" Artie snapped.

"Not to mention we won't have privacy anymore," Mercedes added.

"We did not commit any crime! Not serious, at least." Santana sighed, trying to ease her own tension. "My guts give a knot just thinking that all this may be happening because of me."

"Beautiful figure of speech." George smiled, even though tense.

"You're not the center of the universe," Artie snapped. "It's not all about you, you know that?"

"I know I'm not the center of the universe. But Martinez's ring, which is clearly a message, Jenny's death and Rachel's arrest show that in this case, maybe I am."

Santana opened the door and left the apartment. Once arriving at the ground floor of the building, she met a reporter who was on duty there. Santana rolled her eyes as the man approached.

"Miss Lopez. My name is Ben Israel from the News Diary. You could give a statement about..."

"It's better not to get close."

"That is your chance to resume the narrative in your favor. Please Miss Lopez."

"I said no!" Santana raised a threatening hand. Then she turned her back to the reporter and took a cab.

The vigilante didn't realize at that moment, with her head full, that the reporter was waiting for her in the watchtower's apartment, and not in the dormitory like the others.

...

George couldn't believe how his life underwent a sudden change from the moment Quinn Fabray stepped into his house behind a little-developed prototype to increase her physical strength. Yes, he thought that was the turning point, not necessarily when he first met Artie. For George, the wheelchair man was just another nerd who worked in the network engineering department. Artie was just another kid on the internet, like everyone else, who had nimble fingers, and considered himself the hacker because he knew how to knock down some firewalls. Artie and another team of four ensured the running of the company's system. George was always the maintenance guy. He was an electrical engineer, but for that company, an electrical engineer served as the face of equipment maintenance. What would change if they knew that the Indian descendant was an intuitive and born inventor? Artie sensed that. That's what made the flying man approach.

First it was a service George did on Artie's equipment, then it was lunch. Over time, George and Artie became friends, and the flyer discovered that the imagination of the electrical engineer and the ability to materialize ideas couldn't be so natural. George was a genius. Or even, George could be a genius if he weren't a superhuman, like the others.

Some favors and the Quinn Fabray factor later, there was George feeding a system with thousands of information so that names, faces, anything that could be an indication of the relationship between "Martinez" and the "girl who died" could be crossed. All to save the skin of a "that Rachel" that he didn't know personally, because the girl was very important to Santana Lopez, the main vigilante in which he was introduced almost casually. In all sincerity, George didn't give a damn about Santana. On the other hand, he liked Artie and Quinn Fabray, and he understood that the secret was an important part so that those people could do a job that the police couldn't or didn't want to do.

After Santana left the apartment, Artie and Mercedes discussed the situation. George paid no attention to both. He picked up a cup of coffee and finished the latest settings in the software for crossing data in the network scanning action. In the meantime, Quinn came hand in hand with Beth. George unconsciously sighed. Quinn was so beautiful. Beth didn't seem to be happy to be taken to the apartment. The little girl mumbled and ran to one of the rooms.

"I brought the snack." Quinn packed sandwiches into the small kitchen. "Any news?"

"Not yet." Mercedes picked up one of the sandwiches, took a bite, and took the bag. "I'm late."

Quinn nodded, then glared at Artie, who also flinched to leave. She watched her friend leave as well, and when the wheelchair guy closed the door of the apartment, Quinn stared at George.

"Are you leaving too?"

"No, I'm fine." George returned to focus on the computer. A few more details and then he pressed the enter. "You look like you need to sleep for three days in a row."

"Aren't we all?" Quinn sat down on the couch. "This story of paralegal in training in Rachel's case is driving me crazy. Not to mention that Ryder pays very poorly. Considering that I am accumulating three jobs, being two unpaid, I think I am doing a bad business."

"Three jobs?"

"The internship, the vigilantes and being single mother."

"Oh..." George smiled. "How was the court hearing?"

"It's not the court hearing yet. This will only be in two days. We are researching and trying to see the possibility of entering into an agreement to avoid the judgment in fact. "

"Even so, how did it go?"

"Rachel is not guilty of this particular crime. Even though she killed Jenny with the release of energy, it was self-defense. The case of the police station is an offense. But the prosecutors are trying to link it to the quake and also to the bridge case. If they can, we will have problems."

"Rachel came in that famous video, didn't she?"

"Yes, but until then she was only there. Now it's different because They've found that she has superpowers, so, now they're can speculate that she was the cause of the accident."

"Is she?"

"No. In this case of the bridge, she is innocent. Her powers hadn't yet manifested at that time."

Quinn stood up for a moment. She went to the room where Beth was, and all George could hear muffled voices between mother and daughter. Apparently Beth was angry with her mother over an activity at school with parents and children that Quinn couldn't stand for. A few minutes later, Quinn returned to the kitchen, she checked out the sandwiches. There were five of the same flavor. Mercedes and Artie took theirs. Quinn was waiting for Santana to be around. She got herself a sandwich and watched the panel mounted on the flat. The Ice Queen looked at the photos and documents collected.

"Any progress?"

"The program is running and crossing the data."

"Does it take that long?"

"Do you know the size of social networks and Google? Do you have a sense of what needs to be done to get this data, even with facial recognition? Still has the difficulty in defining what we want to see exactly. It takes a little yes, but the important thing is that it will work."

"You're the expert."

Quinn grabbed a beer from the fridge and sipped a little. She didn't like beer that much, but the occasion demanded. She needed to relax a bit. Quinn offered George a beer, which he gladly accepted. The engineer went to the kitchen and got his sandwich to snack with Ice Queen.

"It's a really big sandwich." George smiled.

"It's the advantages of having a metabolism faster than normal."

"Chips and beer are at ease for you."

"You bet." Quinn finished her lunch. "On the other hand, we'd have to sleep at least ten hours a day to get well. But with the life that we take, with the triple journey, this is impossible. I can't think of anything else."

"Why don't you go to your house and get some rest? I can cover things around here."

"I can't. The vigilante must make an appearance tonight while Santana is watched."

"Speaking of which, I made some adjustments to the suit. I couldn't increase the strength, but I managed to make it more comfortable and less bulky." George went to the corner of the room and showed the exoskeleton to Quinn. "See, he's more flexible. You will have more freedom to move."

"It crashed when I had to cool down the last time." Quinn analyzed the technology.

"I don't know if I solved this problem, but I think it will respond better."

"Thank you." Quinn smiled genuinely.

"That thing you do... go on the streets when she can't... you like it, don't you? Why?"

"Have you ever been stoned?"

"If I tell you that I've never smoked a weed, I'll be lying. So... yes, I know."

"Patroling is like getting stoned, with the difference that you don't feel like shit afterwards. On the contrary, you continue to feel good. An incredible prolonged effect. The power makes a difference in some way... is incredible. That's what Santana feels. That's what I feel too."

"Help Rachel in the legal field makes you feel good as well?"

"Maybe, although this part is me trying to give Beth a better life."

"I understand."

"May ask you a question?

"Of course."

"Why did you agree to ride with us at such a bad time?"

"I don't know... I just think it's the right thing to do. Besides, it's cool not to be alone anymore."

Quinn nodded and smiled. She got up off the couch to check on Beth again. That's when the computer made a sign. She accompanied George to see what appeared on the screen. George checked some of the results and frowned.

"It seems that Brody, this friend of Rachel Berry, knew Holly Martinez. That could be nothing."

"Or something... can you trace possible relationships between them?"

"Sure. It's just categorize that the system crawls for any documents or images they have appeared at the same time."

"You did not mention that the system tracks camera faces."

"Oops."

"Can you track our actions?"

"Yes."

"If you can trace our faces into action, can you also erase evidence?"

"I consider myself more of an inventor than a hacker, but, I think it's possible."

"How long?"

"Quinn, the system groups information, but it's the people who need to do the rest, almost manually. It could mean watching hours of recording."

"Then we'd better get started."

...

Santana sat at the table and waited. The room was bare, small, with observation windows in which one could see the recent repair, and it had only two chairs placed in opposite positions, one facing the other. The door opened, bringing Rachel handcuffed along with three guards and the case investigator.

"You have ten minutes," the investigator warned. "No physical contact. We'll be watching." She pointed to the window.

Rachel sat down in front of Santana and smiled slightly. They both waited for the detective and the guards to leave to start talking.

"How are you?" Santana began.

"Surviving. And you? Quinn said you had serious surgery."

"Jenny shot me before she went after you. That was close."

"It's been a little over a week and you're on your feet. It's impressive."

"I had help."

"Quinn mentioned... is she in town?"

"Not anymore." Santana sighed. "We'll get you out of this, Rach. Lynn is a good lawyer and we will help in what was necessary. We're after evidence and any detail that might help get you out of here."

"I knew you were working."

"Always."

"San..."

"What?"

"I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I should have started to practice my self-control from the first moment I arrived in town."

"What I don't understand is what happened that you couldn't have more control. You weren't like that when you went to live in the Metropolis."

"Stress, disillusionment, sadness... you can choose anyone."

"Even so."

"I'm not like you, San."

"I can be impulsive too, Rach. I'm not a good reference to anyone."

"You're wrong."

Santana looked around the room, more precisely toward the window. She didn't see the guards or any of the detectives who were working on the case. She was afraid to comment on any detail, to speak any information that would lead the vigilante. Listening conversations was illegal, but they were in the interrogation room. Santana herself had already been there. In addition, the police were behind her, waiting for the slightest slip.

"Rachel. I just wanted you to know that we'll be here for you no matter what the judge decides. I know you're innocent."

"Thanks. I heard this from you means a lot to me. After all, I know you liked Jenny."

"Yes, I liked her. I loved her. But I also know we had a toxic relationship. We weren't good to each other."

"I remember."

"I admit it's being harder than I could imagine."

"Sorry if I make it worse."

"No, Rach. You don't make anything worse. Whatever happened to you that night, I know you didn't look for any of that and just wanted to defend yourself. I am responsible for all of this shit. I couldn't handle with Jenny very well. I didn't break up wit her in a proper way."

"Santana, you're not responsible for Jenny's unbalance, or mine." Seeing that Santana didn't respond and that, worse, seemed to be in a quiet internal battle, Rachel took her hands up to the vigilante to touch her, even which briefly and discreetly. "If you lose your mind, they win."

The actress nodded before getting up. The guards opened the door and led Rachel back to the makeshift and underground cell in the police department. Santana got up then, but before leaving the room, the path blocked by the detective. The woman looked at the young woman and said seriously.

"You may be the victim in this case, but people like you do not fool me, Lopez. You and I know very well that Rachel has superhuman powers, but she doesn't have the profile of who does justice with her own hands. You, on the other hand, are quite capable."

"As far as I know, Detective, the vigilante does not do justice with its own hands. The thugs are handed over to the police, right? This is not your problem. What would it be, Detective? Retaliation because the vigilantes exposed a corrupt mayor? Or is it because they're in the sack of something very bad for the corporation?"

"We'll get you. You will be arrested."

"What exactly was the crime I committed? A bar fight in which the bail has already been paid and the warning recorded and filed? Or is it because Lynn filed suit against this corporation for an illegal interrogation?"

Without a response the detective was silent. She put a fake smile on her face and let Santana through.

...

Quinn was confident. She was inexperienced, was following the first case as a trainee, but her involvement in drafting the defense made her happy. That was just the first step where the case would be filed by the public prosecutor's office, the charges would be made, Rachel would testify and the judge would determine whether there would be bail or not, and set the trial. There was a large audience outside the courthouse because of the notoriety that the case took. Reporters from all over the country demarcated their places, people with posters supporting vigilantes. Within the court, only the persons authorized by the institution and the interested parties.

Quinn was dressed in the only suit she had. Her hair was perfectly combed and her gaze focused on the table where the defendant would appear. She was sitting in the audience next to Santana Lopez and Marley Rose. Also in the courtroom were Rachel's parents, Kurt Hummel, Brody, Blaine, Mercedes, Artie and Rachel's older friends: Tina Chang, Samuel Evans, Noah Puckerman, Professors William and Emma Schuester, as well as ex-boyfriend Finn Hudson. On the other side of the audience were basically Jenny's family and some authorities. There were also a handful of journalists who were granted clearance to follow the case in court. Quinn, Santana, Marley, Mercedes, and Artie were far from familiar. From the looks of hatred from Finn and Kurt, it seemed that one group of friends wasn't well liked by the other.

Rachel walked into the courtroom in shackles and clean clothes provided by her parents. A guard took off her handcuffs so she could sit down at the table with Ryder Lynn. The prosecution lawyers (there were three at the table) were already waiting for the Judge. Rachel looked back and waved to her friends and parents. Then she exchanged accomplices with Santana, who tried to convey confidence.

The arrival of the judge was announced, all stood up for the arrival of the authority.

"Ryder explained that Al Motta is an unpredictable judge." Quinn whispered to Santana. "If he sympathizes with Rachel, we have a good chance he'll end this now."

The case was read and the lawyers made a quick presentation. The judge took a paper and began to read the lawsuits that were running against Rachel. On the damage caused at the police station, attempted escape with robbery of public patrimony, Rachel pleaded guilty. Of the murder of Jennifer Briston, Rachel pleaded not guilty. The judge would pronounce the sentence when the prosecution lawyer interrupted and asked to approach due to a new fact. The people in the courtroom were confused. It was when Mercedes, with a startled and pale look, showed the video on the cell phone to Quinn, Marley and Santana.

It was a shaky recording of a cell phone made by someone who was clearly hidden. But it was clear to see Santana talking to Rachel while she was hugging Kurt. Brody and Blaine were also on the scene, watching everything closely. The sound was bad, noisy, but it was possible to see that Santana was trying to comfort Rachel. Then Rachel goes to the end of the alley and the quake happens. A part of the marquise of one of the buildings yields, and the image shows Santana, in pure reflex, raising a garbage dump to rebound the wreckage and saving the friends. The video ends with Santana wearing the mask, throwing her backpack to Kurt before running off into the building.

"Oh no..." Santana stood up.

All eyes were on her. She was frozen, not sure how to react. She could run and hide. At where? It was as if, at that moment, there was no place in the world she could go. She saw the movement of the guards blocking the door while the judge demanded a court order. Everyone sat down again, including Santana. Marley laced their fingers together. Quinn was paler than she normally was.

"Faced with the new occurrences, I understand that it is necessary to investigate the veracity of these supposed evidences. However, on the case 261839-98, I believe there is sufficient evidence. The defendant Rachel Barbra Berry has proven to be a threat when subjected to great stress, but there is no evidence of bad faith against her. Rachel Barbra Berry will be granted the await of her free trial upon payment of $ 20,000 bail. This session is closed."

Santana was feeling mixed between running and greeting the good work of the lawyers. To be able to hug Rachel. But the eyes weren't on the defendant. They were all in her. She could feel the journalists being allowed to keep up with the court's judgment by approaching. She let go of Marley's hand and stood up. But she didn't know where to run. It was clear that this was a very good frame against her and the other guards. What to do? Maybe it should be the sacrifice, the old ox that lies behind to save the herd. She saw the detectives approaching.

"Santana Lopez," Detective Anne stopped in front of the vigilante, "Follow us please."


	12. Chapter 12

Santana were in prison for 24 hours. It was 24 hours almost uninterrupted that Santana Lopez was psychologically tortured, assaulted, threatened. She heard all manner of threats, of barbarities, but she stayed quiet and in silence. It was a completely illegal police action, Ryder tried to stay with the client anyway, but the police were willing to risk everything for an answer or a confession. Santana didn't admit anything, she didn't show signs of strength, she didn't sign anything. She only endured martyrdom, waiting for the protocolary 24 hours that the police could keep her in prison. In fact, not even the police had a crime in which to justify her remaining in custody, but a record of aggression by Howard Battes almost two years ago, which can't necessarily be attributed to her, as well as the invasion of home of Holly Martinez, whose husband was arrested for the murder of Grant Fish. There were other vigilantes, that was known, hence the difficulty in prosecuting her. There was nothing but circumstantial evidence, there was nothing that could guarantee arrest and judgment.

On the other hand, Santana was in no hurry to get out of jail. Not when she knew that as soon as she'd gotten her feet out of the police department, hell would come before her own eyes. That's exactly what happened when she saw the number of journalists huddled together trying to get a statement from the vigilante. Helped by Ryder and Marley, she went right through the siege and into the lawyer's car.

"Where are we going?" Ryder asked.

"To my dorm," Santana answered laconically.

"Do you think it's wise?" Marley questioned. "Maybe the cabin..."

"To put Quinn and Beth in an uncomfortable position? No, thank you."

"They're on target right now anyway. Everyone close to you will be summoned to testify in a few days. Quinn, Mercedes, Artie... even your parents." Ryder guessed.

"The point is I will not be there to attract unwanted people to a place of peace."

Santana wasn't sure, but she sensed that the remaining guards had spent the last 24 hours cleaning up evidence so that police would be unable to find anything at all in case of search warrant. Yes, she was right about that. Ryder left Santana in the university dormitory. Marley decided to accompany her. They walked nearby in the midst of another small crowd of journalists, students and inquisitors. There were also fans of the vigilantes, people wearing masks. The vigilante wasn't interested in these people.

Marley and Santana entered the room already without the insulation tapes that prevented Mercedes from entering for three days while the police did the crime scene. Santana sighed and hugged her best friend as she entered the room. Then she looked at the side of the room he occupied. She looked at the floor. It was the first time she had returned to the dormitory since the assassination attempt. Her blood stain was still there, despite the clear effort to put it out. The vigilante, still in silence, took some clothes and went to the collective bathroom of the floor. The path between the bedroom and the bathroom used to be eventless, ordinary, with people bumping into the corridors with no consequence at all. Not anymore. The path was full of students curious to see their colleague. The stares of fear and rebuke hurt Santana.

She took off in the shower the smell of sweat, urine, and blood. Santana thought she deserved more water and allow herself to stay a little longer. Then, she dried her body, wiped her hair, brushed it quickly, put on her robe, and left. In the hallway, again the confronting looks and no word said. She entered the room and found Marley and Mercedes talking about something, probably about the case. She pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, pulled the quilt off the bed, and lay on her back to the girls. She needed desperately to sleep. Then she felt a body cuddle beside her. A leaner, taller body she knew very well.

"Aren't you dating the lawyer?" Santana said huskily.

"Shut up." It was Marley's answer.

Santana didn't contest Marley. She desperately needed contact and care. But there was no peace for now. One hour later, she woke up with a knock at the door. Marley got up and went to answer, since Mercedes was no longer in the dormitory. It was the police.

"Good afternoon, Vigilante. I said we'd see each other soon enough." Detective Anne handed her the warrant.

Santana didn't answer the cop. Marley checked the papers and went next to the vigilante. The assistant took the vigilante's hand and, with their fingers interlaced, led Santana out of the room. Four policemen, including the detective, were plucking the apartment. They revolved everything for pleasure rather than for the need of demand. They took Santana's computer, which had nothing but architectural designs, texts and records for the studies. They seized the cell phone, the usual one, since the secure line had been removed from there by Mercedes. They wouldn't find anything there either, other than friends' contacts (including all vigilantes), pictures and generic messages. They seized the mask, because something obvious had to be available. Otherwise, just unnecessary destruction. When the police left, all that remained in the room were shuffled furniture, clothes on the floor, papers and small objects scattered on the floor. Marley got some clothes from Santana, plus a shoe, and put everything in the old black backpack.

"Let's go."

"Where?"

"My place."

Santana had never been to Marley's apartment before. She knew that the girl lived in a place given by the Fishes as a gift because she was almost a daughter adopted for them. Just it. Marley called an UBER still under the eyes of a small crowd on duty.

"Here's 50 for you not to say a word." Marley told the driver as soon as they got into the car.

Marley's apartment was a small, elegant, cozy duplex studio. There were no walls rooms except for the bathroom. The bed was on the mezzanine floor, the kitchen-living room was decorated with dark wood furnishings. There was a colorful picture on the pop art wall. But the best thing about Marley's apartment was the silence. There were no noises there.

"Are you hungry? I can make a sandwich." Marley didn't wait for the answer to prepare the meal. Santana, still very apathetic, just sat passively on the comfortable couch.

"For the first time in a long time ... I'm completely lost. I don't know what to do." Santana ran her hands through her hair.

"I guess."

"That recording and the time it took to be published... I can only imagine that everything was part of a very well articulated plan. One that I don't know how we get out. I hardly know what my life will be like from now on, if I still have a job, if I can graduate, if I'm going to have a normal life despite... of that."

"You never chose a normal life, San. Your powers had an impact on your choices, of course, but even if you didn't have them, you'd be doing the same thing, helping people, somehow. Grant said that you are naturally a hero, not just someone with a mere complex. He said that it could kill you someday, at the same time that it would save us somehow. It was one of the things that attracted me about accepting this job in the first place. You. To know somebody like you."

Santana stared at Marley for a moment. She received the sandwich and continued to face the financial administrator. She thought Marley gave her more credit than needed, and this put more pressure on her shoulders.

"Aren't you hungry?"

"I lost my hunger."

Marley took the sandwich from Santana's hands and placed the food on the plate on the kitchen counter. Then, Marley sat on the vigilante's lap and kissed her on the lips. Santana gently pushed her away.

"Marley... not now. I can't."

"Who said our relationship has to be just business and sex?"

"Under other circumstances, I would agree. But now I can not be the girlfriend of anyone."

"Is it because of Rachel?"

"Yes, it's because of Rachel, but it's also because of Quinn, Artie, Mercedes, Matt, Brittany, you... even that new guy. The vigilantes are done, Marley. Rachel and I are fried, but I can't let that happen to others."

"We are all adults, San. You are not responsible for our choices."

"I know that. It turns out that my choices can't hurt you. I don't have that right."

"It could be if you were a perfectly isolated being. It turns out that no one is. We need each other whether you like it or not." Marley kissed Santana on the lips again before stepping out of her lap. Then she walked to the stairs leading to the mezzanine bedroom. "You come?"

"Marley..."

"I don't want to have sex with you... right now. I'm just offering you an uninterrupted nap. One where you can rest and when you wake up, you can think better about what you need to do for you and the team."

Santana got up from the couch and took Marley's hand, letting herself be led by the assistant. One thing Marley was right about: she needed a moment of peace to get her thinking straight.

...

When Santana woke up, she was without Marley at her side. She got up from the bed and saw the girl in question downstairs working on the computer. Santana felt an urge to check the news, but she held her own momentum. What would be the point? She went downstairs and checked the time. It was late afternoon and she slept for five good hours. Santana realized that she was finally hungry.

"That sandwich..." Santana said as she walked down the stairs.

"In the refrigerator," Marley said so casually, it caused a certain cold in Santana's spine. It was as if she were listening to old Marley, an occasional, uncomplaining lover. At the same time, there was something different.

The vigilante opened the refrigerator, found the meal wrapped in a plastic bag. She savored the sandwich as she stared out the window at the small building where she could see a small park.

"Do you have news from Rachel?" Santana asked.

"She's still in prison. Considering her parents are going to have to make some loans to bail her out... it will take two or three days before she leaves."

"Okay. Let's see later how we can help."

"What?"

"What, what?"

"I swear you would consider selling the apartment or the cabin to pay her bail."

"I confess I've come to think of it, but what good would it do? The cabin is a haven for us all, and Quinn and Beth are living there. Not paying rent means that she can invest in a better career than selling books at a time when people buy ebooks. The apartment is a guarantee fund that we all have. As much as I want to get money for Rachel's bail, I don't have money that's really mine, you're the financial manager and you know we don't have the resources, besides, I have to think about the group."

"I'm impressed. I thought you'd be able to sacrifice anything for her. "

"Jealous?"

"What if I am?"

"What will your boyfriend think?"

"Ryder is not my boyfriend."

"But aren't you sleeping together?"

"Jealous?" Marley countered.

"Perhaps."

"Yes. Ryder... Ryder's a good fuck, and I needed it, since you were with Jenny in your bed and with Rachel in your mind."

"Sorry for getting you into this mess."

"I knew very well what I was getting into, San. Everyone knows that monogamy doesn't belong to your vocabulary."

"That's where you make a mistake." Santana washed the dishes on the sandwich and then wiped her hands on the towel in the kitchen. Then Santana went to the backpack that had some of her clothes. She took off the shorts without bothering briefly to cover up the nudity for Marley, and slipped on a pair of pants. "Can I borrow a hooded jacket?"

"Where are you going?"

"Walk."

"Do you think you should?"

"Marley, I didn't commit any crime that they can prove. I know from my conscience that I didn't commit any crime. I'm a citizen like any other, and I'm tired of hiding."

"I'll go with you."

"I'm just going to walk around the neighborhood, Mar."

"No problem."

Marley took two jackets for her and Santana. She was curious to know what kind of plan the vigilante had in mind. They got out of the apartment and, by some miracle, there were no reporters there. Santana put the hood on. Even though she had spoken that she didn't want to hide, she still had to deal with the fact that her face was printed on every newscast in every imaginable media. She was literally the best-known person in town.

"You never patrolled with me." Santana smiled at Marley.

"Is that what we're doing? Patroling?"

"No. We are going out for a drink."

Santana looked around. She knew she was being recognized by some people. The expressions they made left no doubt. Some people even waved and smiled. Santana pointed to a store that was being robbed. She got in quietly and blocked the robber's way. It was a precise blow, a punch. The robber collapsed.

"Call the police," she told the clerk.

Santana start walking again as if nothing had happened, with a stunned Marley at her side. It was just routine. Santana knocked out a robber on almost every patrol.

"You want me to tune into the police channel on my cell phone?" Marley asked, still a little stunned.

"No need. Look, that bar looks good. We can have something to eat."

"Eat? I hate you for it.

"Everybody hates me."

Marley felt as if she were looking at the bar for being with the vigilante. She could see some people discreetly pulling away, as if they were guilty of something and didn't want to reveal themselves. Santana just pretended she didn't notice.

"A beer," Santana said.

"Two," Marley added. Seeing the bartender hesitated, Marley insisted. "Didn't you hear? Two beers."

"I don't want confusion here," said the bartender, who probably also owned the place.

"Me neither." Santana nodded.

She was served and took a sip of the beer under the eyes of the locals. Her and the other vigilantes actions became themes of heated debate between defenders and opponents. Seeing how uncomfortable it was not to have privacy, Marley understood why the vigilantes never considered revealing themselves to the public. She also understood why Santana played the role of piranha ox: she was staying behind and served as a sacrifice so that others could lead a normal life.

"Hey vigilante, are you in the mood for a bet of who is stronger?" A man showed his biceps, probably because he doubted the legitimacy of the events and was willing to take the test.

"I just want to have a beer."

"Are you afraid?"

Santana got up, stood before the man, who weighed more than 100kg, and lifted him up as if he were a doll by the waist of his jeans. Cell phones, of course, were in place.

"I said, I just want to have a beer." Santana put the man back down and turned his back on him.

"Vigilante." Another person caught her attention.

"What is it now?" Santana rolled her eyes.

"Aren't you going to do anything?"

"Do what?"

"They're tweeting that there's a hostage robbery four blocks away."

"The police can deal with it."

"I don't think they'll handle it." The man showed the image of the cell phone. Someone had just posted the image of a gigantic man hurling security a few yards away in front of a bench.

"For God's sake!" Santana's eyes widened and she turned particularly to Marley. "See if you can send some help."

Santana ran toward the incident. It was very strange to run that way through the city without wearing a mask. It looked like she was naked. She knew where the street was, and, judging by the sirens, the danger was real.

"What is going on?"

"This guy is bullet proof!" The policeman said in awe.

Santana looked at the bench. There were hostages, but it didn't seem like the work of a team. It was a one-man job. Or a single monster. Santana reached the commander of the operation.

"Give me a bullet-proof vest."

"Stay out of this, Lopez, otherwise I'll arrest you."

"There's a monster in there that's apparently bulletproof. I'm not, so give me a vest."

It wasn't necessary for the captain to allow Santana's plan. Another policeman dressed her with the vest, as requested. Santana thanked him with a wave and ran toward the building beside the bench. The curious people with the siege, filmed the vigilante's movement climbing the neighboring building and then jumping in a small marquise already in the building of the bank, through which she entered through a window. There was expectation in the air. Five minutes later, they heard the noise of shooting. The glass of the bank's facade was broken. Immediately, some people began to run out, toward the police. It was the bank's employees who had been made hostage.

"Is there anyone else in there?" The policeman asked one of the staff.

"I don't think so... there's only her and that monster."

They could hear the noise of glass and other things breaking. Suddenly, it was the vigilante herself who was literally flying through the broken façade of the bank. Santana rolled over and landed in the middle of the street. She was bruised, half-dazed, and bleeding from a shrapnel in her arm. In the meantime, the giant man left the bank. He was angry. He ran after the vigilante, lifted her above his head, and hurled her into the front of one of the parked cars. The impact made the vigilante gasp. That was definitely new, as if the era of the common thieves, pedophiles, dealers and gangs had passed. Sincerely, Santana was beginning to miss this group of bandits. Seeing the man running toward her, she swerved, causing the monster to crash into the car. She rolled to the floor, backed away, and got up. Santana was in a fighting position when the man smiled with contempt. As strong as he was, Santana knew how to fight, had technique. The monster not. She used the fact that she was much more agile in her favor.

The audience saw a difficult struggle between a girl and a being who was twice her size. Santana figured the man's skin looked bulletproof, as in Luke Cage's comics, but that's all. The force was impressive, but the monster could also be broken. She saw this as soon as the monster missed a punch, which hit a wall, and felt pain. She seized the opportunity, ran and shoved a car into the monster, pressing it against the wall. When she realized she was losing her advantage, the vigilante let go of the car, let the monster get rid of the vehicle, tossing it forward to the side and freeing itself. It was time for her to run and knock down a small traffic signpost with a kick. She tore off the pole and used it as a weapon. First she hit the pole with all her strength against the side of the monster's knee, as if he were playing golf. The monster unbalanced, feeling the blow. In a second movement, Santana knock down another traffic signpost and hit the pole against the man's head, as if playing baseball. The monster collapsed.

She took a few steps back, threw the pole to the side and sat in the middle of the street in exhaustion. She looked up, and saw Flying properly masked, holding Ice Queen. The vigilantes landed.

"Need help?"

"This guy will wake up soon and do more damage," the vigilante explained. "They can't handle it."

With the message given, Ice Queen placed the middle and index fingers on the brute's temples and cooled the brain so that it induced the coma. Meanwhile, Flying took a picture of the bad guy.

"Get the hell out of here," Santana ordered as the cops approached with gunpowers. Flying held Ice Queen and flew away from the spotlight, from the helicopter that flew over the scene and, knocking down in the process, a drone. Meanwhile, on the ground, the cops approached pointing the guns, including to Santana.

"Are you going to arrest me for what now? Destruction of public assets?" Santana rolled her eyes.

"You'd better go with us to give you some clarification, Lopez."

"Can I go to the hospital first?" The truth is that Santana was so sore and injured that it wouldn't be a bad idea to take a ride with the police to the hospital.

The vigilante did not resist the "imprisonment". She allowed herself to be handcuffed and taken into the police car, under protest from the hostages and the people there.

...

Quinn removed her mask and went to George, who was monitoring the situation from his house, since the apartment was emptied as a precaution.

"We need you to do facial recognition."

Quinn rushed Artie, who handed the camera to his friend. George started running the face recognition program. The program took a few minutes to run and crawl social networks with benchmarks.

"How was it there?" George asked as the program rolled on.

"Santana was hurt a lot, but she took care of the monster." Quinn ran a hand over her face. She was distressed and excited at the same time.

"I think we found the guy's identity." George looked at the data. "Apparently this guy's called Spencer Porter. It just doesn't make any sense." He showed the man's original photo to Quinn and Artie. "This guy was an application driver who didn't have that whole size."

Quinn saw his picture and was amazed at the difference, even though the show accused her of being the same person.

"If they are the same people, how did this guy get this way?"

"Good question." Artie was impressed, too. "Looks like Jekyll and Hyde were in town."

"There has to be a link."

Quinn went over to the investigation panel and looked at the possible connections.

"Let's talk to Brody. He is the only point of intersection between Rachel, Holly and Jenny. I don't know yet about Jekyll and Hyde, but I feel this guy can give us some answers."


	13. Chapter 13

"Did you know that Santana Lopez practiced illegal activities?" Detective Anne asked.

"No," Quinn answered without changing her tone.

"Do you know that concealing crimes or criminals is also subject to prosecution, Miss Fabray? Lying in testimony can also upset you?"

"I know."

"Then explain to me how you can live with Miss Lopez for all this time, have a current residence in one of the properties that are in her name, work as a trainee with her and Miss Berry's defense lawyer, and not know that she was one of the vigilantes?"

"Because that was a part of her life that wasn't shared with me. You see, Detective, we've formed a family in this town. One by choice. But it doesn't mean that we have to share absolutely everything between us."

"But don't you think it strange that Miss Lopez has inherited two real estates, that she gave you one of them to live in, and still remain in a dormitory?"

"Are you after facts or my speculative opinion, Detective?"

"I want to clarify this, Miss Fabray."

"What I do know is that Santana already occupied the apartment, that she would definitely change as soon as she was graduated. The cabin was empty and she had no plans to live there. So she offered me the property, since I was having trouble paying my rent. As you know, I have a little kid to educate."

"Do you know what led Mr. Grant Fish to give Miss Lopez two real states? What was the relationship between them?"

"The only thing I know is that they were very close."

"Was Mr. Fish a vigilante as well?"

"If I didn't know about Santana, who is close to me, do you really think I would know anything about Grant Fish that I barely knew?"

"Do you, the mother of a little girl, support Miss Lopez's illegal activities, even considering her as one of the family?"

"Again, Detective, do you want facts or my opinion? I'm not here to speculate on hypothetical situations or tell you my opinion. This statement is to clarify facts. So, shall we stick to the facts?"

The detective stared at Quinn Fabray and a shiver ran down her spine. Was the room colder than usual, or was it her impression? Anyway, she knew she would not draw anything consistent from someone so controlled and trained to attend court. It would not be Quinn Fabray that she'd be able to solve the case.

...

"Did you know that Miss Lopez was the vigilante?"

"I knew she was a vigilante, not the watcher. There are more than one if you haven't noticed."

The detective narrowed her eyes at Mercedes. The journalist was known as an advocate of the vigilantes and now it was known that she had a good reason for doing so.

"How long did you know that Miss Lopez was the vigilante?"

"Three years."

"All this time?"

"We've been sharing a dorm for four years now. She's my best friend and I'm good at figuring things out."

"How did you find out that Santana Lopez was a vigilant?"

"I already knew Santana had superhuman strength before she even wore a mask. Shortly afterwards we met Grant Fish, who had certain skills. They formed the original pair of vigilantes. Then others came. Santana didn't let me get involved, so I only know about her and Grant."

"What was the relationship between Santana Lopez and Grant Fish?"

"They were great friends, partners."

"Do you know why Grant Fish left two real estates on behalf of Santana Lopez?"

"Because of Martinez's threats to kill them. Grant stepped forward and confronted him, but not before making some arrangements to guarantee that Santana would be okay."

"Why Santana Lopez? Why not other vigilante?"

"Haven't you ever seen Santana perform? Never seen the videos? Because Santana is just like that: she thinks first about saving people before she thinks about the consequences that it could bring to her. Grant wanted her to have some recourse to continue their work, to continue helping people. What she actually did: tried to help Rachel control her powers, continued to save people, delivered thieves of all kinds to you cops. And how do you thank her? Trying to arrest her."

"Do you know who the other vigilantes are?"

"No, I do not. I've been with two of them, but the identity has been kept secret."

"How?"

"They didn't take off the masks."

"What is the degree of involvement of other people like Marley Rose, Ryder Lynn, Quinn Fabray, Rachel Berry, Arthur Abrams and Jennifer Briston?"

"Of those people, the only ones who knew Santana was vigilante were Berry and Jenny. Berry began to manifest her powers and Santana tried to help control them. Jenny also knew Santana was vigilante, but she didn't get involved as long as I know."

"And Marley Rose?"

"The only person who can answer what kind of relationship Marley Rose had with Santana Lopez is Marley Rose herself."

...

"Did you know Santana Lopez was a vigilante?"

"Not until recently," Marley replied.

"Until when exactly, Miss Rose?"

"Some weeks ago. Jenny told me."

"Why did Miss Briston entrust you with such important information?"

"Because she found out that Santana and I were having an affair on her back. When she confronted me about it, she threw everything in my face."

"What did you do?"

"It took me a few days to process the information and I walked away. I never saw Santana again till the day she was in the hospital. I knew of Jenny's death, and in spite of everything, I wanted to go to the hospital to give her my feelings."

"Did you know Rachel Berry?"

"Only by name."

"Did you know that Rachel Berry and Santana Lopez had a previous involvement?"

"I didn't. I knew Rachel Berry when she came back to town and I saw her once, but we weren't introduced till Lynn started to work on her case. Not before that. Santana used to talk about Rachel as a good friend who moved out the city."

"Did you have contact with Quinn Fabray, Mercedes Jones, and Arthur Abrams?"

"Of course, they are Santana's closest friends."

"You were raised together with Grant Fish, correct Miss Rose?"

"Yes, I am the daughter of the Fishes cook. I spend my childhood with Grant and his sister. Mr. Fish funded my studies."

"Did Grant mention anything about Santana Lopez?"

"I knew they were friends, but I didn't know her at the time. A few days before he died, Grant said what he wanted to do and asked for my help. When he died, I had my instructions. That's when I met Santana Lopez."

"Did she know Grant Fish would give real states to her?"

"Santana didn't know anything. I broke the news and she said she would refuse the goods."

"Why did she accept then?"

"I convinced her otherwise. It was Grant's wish."

"When did you and Miss Lopez get involved romantically?"

"Months after that."

"Did you know about Santana's relationship with miss Briston?"

"Of course."

"And you still got involved with miss Lopez."

"Well, that's not your business."

The detective looked at Marley and didn't know what to ask anymore. She had collected the testimony of all the people closest to Santana Lopez, and all the testimonies were well connected. Anne picked up the files about the Grant Fish murder. She realized that some of the loose ends about the case were answered with some of the testimonials. It was known that Martinez was endowed with powers. His plans with the former mayor to set up a team of notables diverting public money were also exposed.

Even the circumstances that led Jenny to try to kill Santana and Rachel were more enlightened, though the detail about Jenny's death itself remained mysterious. Finally, she even came to sympathize with the vigilante, although the detective finds that in the love field Santana Lopez deserved the shots she took. Finally, Anne knew she didn't have enough elements to arrest Santana Lopez, not because the vigilante was a terible girlfriend. There were no compromising document or object found in the cabin, in the apartment or even in Santana Lopez's dormitory. So what to do?

Anne took Rachel Berry's file. She read Rachel's new testimony, detailing how she met Santana, how her powers began to manifest and how they got involved. Rachel's testimony struck Kurt Hummel's, Finn Hudson's, the group called "friends of Rachel" and also the group called "friends of the vigilante." The detective felt that Rachel Berry could still be the key to everything. That, perhaps, if Rachel continued to be pressured by the police and justice, the vigilantes themselves would be forced to reveal themselves and elucidate the case. Besides, now there were bigger monsters that the police couldn't handle without help. She and the cops had to be smart in this game.

…

Back at the apartment, Santana was lying on the comfortable couch, feeling still sore from the last fight. Despite her still recovering body, she paid attention to the team's latest movements. George had just scanned the apartment for wiretaps or implanted cameras. Since the apartment was clean, the group felt comfortable to go back to the on-site gatherings which was beyond doubt a far better place than the house full of trinkets like George's.

Quinn explained her theory and her plan to investigate Brody. That the team should split up to find out what was going on.

"Brody knows Holly, he also met Jenny." Quinn paced back and forth, recapitulating the situation. "Not to mention that it's very strange of Rachel's uncontrollableness whenever he's around." She flipped back the video from the alley where Rachel causes the quake that almost made a building collapse. "I don't remember teaching that technique to her, releasing power on the ground. Brody was the only person in town, other than Brittany, who knew Rachel had powers. And knowing that Brittany and Rachel were never close, that could only have been the two of them. "

"But unlike us, Rachel's power is very emotionally connected," Artie argued. "The fact that her powers had manifested after a trauma, and not in adolescence like the rest of us, siys a lot. It may explain the lack of control."

"It's not just her power that was connected with emotions. Ours too. When Santana stressed out because of the college, what's the first thing she breaks?"

"Computer keyboards," Santana replied. "The stress because of the classes made me break at least ten. That's why I never use the keyboard of my computer. I always use one apart, cheaper, connected by bluetooth."

"Point one," Quinn pointed out. "I always cool the environment a bit when I get nervous or stressed. Even today, when I can control my abilities. Matt told me that he made things move without his will when he lost his emotional control. Our powers are connected to our emotions. Perhaps this is more evident in powers that project energy, like mine, but the connection exists. The point is that Rachel's epic lost of control isn't normal. Santana taught her how to control her power and we helped."

"Let's just say that Rachel's lack of control was purposeful. What's the purpose? Screw Santana over?" Marley asked.

"Expose us," Santana replied, following Quinn's reasoning. "Screw me over is one of the goals, and that's clear. Mercedes herself is having her credibility questioned as a journalist because of all of this situation. But let's just say that Holly is really behind this, she wants to expose us as a form of revenge because we expose her husband's dirty play and we still put him in jail. Since she has no documents to prove, because we destroyed all those who compromised us, then she must make us expose ourselves. All of us. Better yet, she needs to incriminate us. Jenny's murder makes that very clear. The outcome was already planned. I think they didn't expect Jenny to shoot me before she attacked Rachel. If not for that, guess who the main suspect would be?"

"But I still don't understand where Brody gets into this story," Artie commented.

"I don't know either, but we'll find out," Quinn said determinedly. "Maybe I can have a word with him."

"Why you?" Mercedes questioned her.

"Because I'm following Rachel's defense. I have that excuse."

"Guys!" George called attention. "Your investigation and deduction work is pretty cool to follow, but we have another Jekyll and Hyde attack on the city."

"What?" Santana jumped off the couch and went to George's side to check the monitor. "Is it the same guy?"

"I can't tell."

Santana sighed and walked over to the wardrobe. It took her only a minute to put on her black suit, her bulletproof vest, and returned to the room with a mask in her hand. It was the force of habit.

"George, use your contraption to cover the Flying and Ice Queen." Santana was referring to possible drones or observers outside. "I'll get the elevator."

...

Santana ran against people. Quickly, she saw the monster holding a woman's head, as if it were a doll. Santana's previous experience showed her that these creatures were lethal, and that all care was short. So she didn't mind fighting dirty. She ran behind the creature, jumped, and struck the back of his neck with all her strength. The creature released the woman, took two steps forward and fell to his knees. It was the time it took Santana to pull the woman away.

"Run!" She said.

"Please don't kill him. He's my husband."

Santana's eyes widened behind the mask. Her husband? What the hell was going on. But the time to ask would come later.

"For God's sake, get out of here."

"Promise you will not kill him!" The woman insisted.

"I'll do my best."

The creature rose. He saw his wife running away and the vigilante between them. He became possessed and shouted. There were a few more people around. Curious, adventurers, people who were paralyzed by fear.

"Why don't the police ever come when I need it?" Santana grunted.

The creature attacked her, and she first swerved. If it was like the previous one then she knew she had to expect superhuman strength equated with hers, the skin became impenetrable, but bones could still be broken. The intellect wasn't wholly suppressed, and its appearance altered, grotesque, though the traces remained in some way identifiable.

Santana realized that the creature wasn't interested in her, but in his wife. Santana ran after the monster. She was faster and jumped again and punched the creature behind. But this time he couldn't hit her.

"I'm going to kill you!" The creature finally focused on the vigilante.

"So come and get me."

Santana didn't have time to dodge the snag which made her fly two or three meters away. She was a bit stunned by the blow, but didn't have much time to recover. Then, she had to roll to the side so as to avoid a kick. The monster tried to step on it, but Santana grabbed his foot and shoved him, causing the creature to fall backwards and she gained a little more time to catch her breath. In the meantime the cavalry appeared. Santana frowned in Quinn's uniform. It was strange: the black clothes and an exoskeleton whose function was to increase Quinn's physical strength a little. Santana thought it odd when she first saw the suit and still could not get used to it.

"I'll fight him head-on and you'll try to freeze what you can touch."

"Right."

It was the first time in a long time that Santana and Quinn had been teamworking. Santana made the direct confrontation, she could bear it more directly, while Quinn circled around the monster, tried to dodge, and when she found an opening, she cools everything she had. This caused numbness in the parts of the bodies touched, which facilitated substantially the work of Santana in overthrowing him.

"Ice, get out," Santana shouted before reaching the monster with a garbage can, knocking him over.

Santana looked down the street, where police officers were already barricading to isolate the place. Then she looked at the monster, who was stunned.

"Put him to sleep and let's get out of here."

Quinn nodded and did what had to be done. Santana then took her hand and ran in the opposite direction of the cops. A woman ran not toward them, but toward the monster. This woman was promptly intercepted by Santana.

"Let me go!" The woman shouted. "It's my husband."

"Flying!" Santana called through the communication channel.

Artie readily complied with the request. But instead of taking Quinn, as was usual (since Santana's identity became public), he took the woman.

"They'll accuse us of kidnapping." Quinn tried to ponder Santana.

"I just want to get some information," she said as they ran away from the crowd and the cops. "Flying, take the woman to the terrace of the green building."

"Understood."

The green building in question was merely a residential building known because of the facade of green tiles and because it was used as a reference point to reach community college. Santana could run faster, but Quinn didn't have the same physical performance even with the exoskeleton. The delay frustrated the leader, but both managed to reach the meeting point avoiding undesirable witnesses. When they arrived, Artie helped Quinn up, while Santana used the fire escape stairs. The wife was nervous, but Santana removed her mask and revealed her face, trying to calm her down.

"My husband ..." the woman shouted.

"Listen ... listen ... flying will take you to the police, so you can take care of your husband."

"I want to go now!"

"Look, I just want some information. I see that your husband wasn't like that, right? He changed." Santana said in a controlled voice. "We want to find out what's going on with these people, and you're going to help us."

"Why would I help?"

"Because the police aren't interested in preventing this from happening again or sharing information with us. But we're trying to catch who's doing it."

"What's your name?" Quinn asked in a controlled voice behind her mask.

"Elaine ... Elaine Saunders."

"Hi, Elaine. You can call me Ice. This is Santana Lopez. "

"I know who she is."

"Okay, Elaine. What's your husband's name? "

"Hank ... Hank Saunders."

"What does Hank do?"

"He ... he's unemployed right now."

"What happened to him being like that?"

"He came home. He said he earned some money to take an experimental vitamin. Then ... he started to get sick and change ... and when he changed ... he started repeating that he needed to go to the jewelry store. That he would take whatever it takes to pay our debts "

"Elaine." Santana came over and took the woman's hand gently. "Hank said the name of some person or company that was applying this experimental vaccine?"

"Finatec or something. I'm a nurse..." She looked directly at Santana. "I helped you when you got shot."

"I appreciate that, Elaine. But what does that have to do with it? "

"We work with medicines, we know the laboratories... Finatec is not the branch."

"Thank you." Quinn thanked her. "Flying. Please leave Elaine near the police officer."

Artie took the woman and pulled her out. Santana sighed and leaned against the wall of the terrace. She herself was tired, feeling a lot of physical pain.

"Do you still think it's all connected?" Quinn mused as she removed her own mask.

"Martinez had many obscure connections, Fabray. Something we failed to investigate when he was arrested because we were too focused on the main case. Get ready, because more Jekyll and Hyde will emerge. The time for subtleties has passed. If we don't fix it as fast as possible, things will get worse. Holly or whoever it is, will push us in every field to ruin our lives, or kill us."

Quinn agreed. She also knew they would need reinforcements as soon as possible. They would need Matt and also Rachel. They would need Brittany. They would need them all.


	14. Chapter 14

Rachel was relieved to finally be home. It was three weeks in jail, wearing the thick cotton uniform, sleeping on a thin mattress, feeling cold and especially being afraid. It was ironic, because the people she "lived with" there were terrified of her. She sat on the mattress in her own bedroom. It was so soft, like a cloud. Even softer than the tiny studio that lived in the metropolis. Checked the calendar. She should have returned to the theater company, the vacation was over, but she was still there. She and Brody. She could no longer leave town without notifying the court. She couldn't leave the country without authorization. What good would it be to come back?

"Rachel?" She heard Brody knock on the door.

"What's it?"

"Quinn Fabray is here."

"Say I'm sick."

Quinn was right behind Brody and heard Rachel's refusal to receive her. There was nothing previously agreed, so the result couldn't be better. Quinn smiled at Brody and tried, subtly and softly, to make small seductive movements.

"I'm so sorry," Brody said.

"Never mind. I think I'll go then."

"Don't you want some coffee? I mean, I'm just a guest in this house, but I think I can offer you a coffee."

"So nice of you. I accept a cup of cofee."

As they went to the kitchen, Quinn tried to continue the subtle seduction. A touch on the shoulder here, a smile there. All to keep Brody interested.

"So Brody, how did you meet Rachel?"

"In the company. I joined a year earlier and our connection was immediate. Rachel... she is an amazing singer. So she helped me improve as a singer and I helped her with the acting."

"Gosh... and this story of her powers!"

"Yes, it was a surprise when I found out."

"I guess."

"Did you know about her, or about Santana?"

"Yes, I knew. It was like finding out that demigods exist."

"Basically that."

"It was a little intimidating, but then I saw that Santana has her heart in the right place."

"Rachel is not like that. She seems to be very determined on the outside, but she is insecure on the inside. At the end of the day, she needs a lap to cry." Brody poured coffee for Quinn. "Sugar?"

"A cube please."

Quinn sweetened the hot, bitter liquid. It was a little stronger than she was used to. As she talked to Brody about small things, she was bothered by the slight tingle she felt at her fingertips. The coffee has cooled ahead of time.

"What about Rachel's instability? It worries me a lot. I witnessed Santana training Rachel. What could have happened?"

"Stress. Rachel's life is not easy in the metropolis." Brody answered laconically.

"That's sucks." Quinn continued to bother with the tingling in her fingertips. "Then she gets here and has to face this whole situation… Jenny's lack of control. Gosh, I've met Jenny on a few occasions, but she's never been so jealous. It's okay that I never had a romantic story with Santana, so I was never a threat."

Yeah… different from Rachel."

"Rachel and Santana had only one flirt. That's not enough."

"Sometimes it's for someone like Jenny."

"I agree..." Quinn set down the cup of iced coffee and took her bag. "Well, thanks for the coffee, but I need to do some research for Rachel's defense."

"Of course... by the way... what did you find out about the murder?"

"Nothing but what the police know."

Brody smiled and walked Quinn to the door. As she walk away from the house, especially from Brody, Quinn's body gets less thoughtful and the tingling in her fingertips has stopped. She might be seeing things the wrong way, but there was something really odd about Brody. The way he talked about Jenny made it clear that he really knew her, but Quinn didn't want to try to explore further for fear that the young man suspected that this conversation was far beyond merely casual. Quinn did a self-exam once again: her hand warmed again, the tingling passed. There was something strange. Her cell phone rang. She smiled when she saw the name on the screen.

...

It was final exam day. Even though the last few weeks had been chaos, Santana came to the room for the test. After all, she had a scholarship throughout the course, was a student of good grades, became a good architect as she always wanted from childhood. She just needed to do the last formality before receiving her diploma. It was weeks of little sleep, when she lost her job, was temporarily arrested twice, was shot by her own ex-girlfriend, that her ex-girlfriend died, that she faced freaks possibly the result of a diabolic serum, not to mention how much her body was too sore after the night before. Thinking that way, Santana Lopez couldn't afford the test, but she certainly had every right to be there.

She signed the attendance list and sat in one of the chairs under the eyes of all her colleagues. The sensation was horrible. She glanced sideways and saw a colleague she spent the night with after a college party. The girl who once made Santana scream in ecstasy now looked at her as if she were a freak. She saw the same look at colleagues she had fun with, did teamwork, and even joined study groups. Santana shared the classroom with virtually everyone in that room at that time. Suddenly it was as if she were a stranger who didn't belong there. But how to deny her right?

"Good luck."

She heard encouragement from one person, one colleague. Stoner Brett was the oldest guy in the class, a notorious cannabis lover, who was never to judge anyone. And Santana never called or valued Brett. The professor handed the folders to the students. There would be 50 questions divided into two categories, in which students would have up to three hours to answer. When the alarm went off, Santana felt some relief reading the first questions. She knew the answers. She didn't want to waste time and soon filled in the reply card. She had answered seven questions when someone rushed into the room. The professor tries to scold, but the student goes straight to Santana.

"You need to get out of here now!" Shouted the student to the vigilante.

"Why?"

"Sir, get out of this room now." The professor snapped.

The situation, however, seemed serious when more people came into the room looking for Santana.

"There's a monster shooting on campus!" Shouted a girl. "Do something!"

Santana hesitated. It was her final exam, for heaven's sake. She dropped the test and ran out of the room. If it was a prank, she swore she would kill these people.

But it wasn't a prank call.

Outside the building there was shouting. A third Jekyll and Hyde were right on campus, shooting and attacking their own students, who were running desperate in all directions. There were a few brave men who threw what they could, campus security guards fired. It was no use. Jekyll and Hyde's skin was impenetrable, at least momentarily. Santana yanked out a fire extinguisher to use as a weapon and ran toward the monster, reaching behind him. She slammed the extinguisher hard into his hands, managing to disarm him. Then she tried to hit his face, but without optimal physical condition, she ended up being slow, allowing the monster to defend itself and counterattack. Santana was without a bullet vest, which besides the bullets, protected some of the impact. She landed on her back, lost her breath for a second. She had no time to recover and kicked the monster, which seemed particularly insane. Much more than the previous two.

Santana punched the monster. She tried to use her skill, the techniques she knew, but a monster jerk was enough for her to collide with her back to the ground. The monster caught her by the neck and lifted her off the ground. She was choking, choking. A snap and the neck would be broken. A security guard saved her by crashing the electric car she used to monitor the campus against the creature. There was such a loud roar that the man pissed himself all over. He began to fire, but the bullets whipped. Santana felt an extremely painful sting. A bullet hit her in the back at shoulder level. She screamed in pain.

The monster attacked the security guard, but Santana ran to prevent the man from being killed. She threw herself against the monster's legs and made him fall. She got out of him as fast as she could, shoved the security guard away, throwing him away.

"I'll kill you!" The monster shouted. "I'll kill you now."

"Get in line!"

Santana didn't realize she had the strength she needed, but she took the electric car, lifted it over her shoulder, and threw it at the creature. Unsatisfied, she repeated the movement, this time with the fallen creature, and threw the electric car again. The monster stopped moving. The vigilante sat on the grass. A wave of emotions hit her, and Santana began to cry.

...

Santana opened her eyes and was surprised to be in a hospital room. She couldn't remember stopping there. She tried to get up, but her body was so weak and so sore that she gave up.

"Calm down there." She heard Mercedes's voice. Santana calmed down when she saw her best friend. "You got shot... again... and you have two broken ribs… again."

"Cedes, how did I get here?"

"You faced a Jekyll and Hyde on campus."

"Yeah, I remember this."

"Well, they say you had an emotional breakdown after that. You kept crying when you got here. When they called me, you were already having surgery to remove the bullet."

Santana ran a hand behind her right shoulder and felt the bandage. It was amazing that she could barely move.

"Don't try too hard, San. You really need to rest."

"I can't, Cedes."

"You can and will."

A man peered through the ajar door. Santana noticed that he was a policeman. Through the glass window of the ward-facing room she could see another police officer.

"Cedes ... am I under arrest?"

"You won't believe it, but they are here to protect you. The press is out there."

"Damn it!"

"Don't worry, OK? Get some more sleep. I will spend the night with you."

"Cedes, what if another Jekyll and Hyde show up? What will it be like if I stay here in this hospital bed? I can't stay here."

"San, don't you understand this could be the plan? Kill you? You cannot leave here. And even if a Jekyll and Hyde show up at this hospital, we'll fix it."

...

Santana doesn't know how long she slept. When she woke up, she was feeling better, still very sore, but without the weakness of before. She looked around expecting to find Mercedes, but saw Marley analyzing paperwork.

"Hi." Santana said with a little more cheer.

"Hi babe." Marley got up and gave a quick kiss on the vigilante's lips. "How are you?"

"In the mood for peeing!"

"This is a good sign. Can you get up and go to the bathroom?"

"I think so."

Santana lifted her body and made a pained expression. She was still weak, but she made it to the bathroom. It was a relief. She took the opportunity to look in the mirror. She was terribly pale, with dark circles, like an undead. Santana ran a hand through her hair, washed her mouth. When she came out of the bathroom, she was surprised to find Marley giving her a pen.

"Let's get out of here. You need to sign the liability waiver before you are discharged."

Santana didn't argue. She signed the paper and Marley left the room to forward them. Santana took off her serum and medication and then probed the room. She saw a bunch of clothes in a plastic bag in the corner. They were filthy and bloodstained. So what? She picked up the bag and put on her muddy jeans and T-shirt with a bullet hole and bloodstained. Santana waited for Marley, who arrived fifteen minutes later with a wheelchair.

"I parked underground. The press won't see us."

Santana nodded and sat in the wheelchair, letting herself be led by Marley. They took the elevator down to the parking lot and got into Marley's car. Santana turned on the radio. The days were so tense that she had forgotten about the music. She sought a station that pleased her and stopped in a song.

" _Veio até mim/ quem me deixou olhar assim/ não pediu minha permissão/ não pude evitar/ tirou meu ar/ fiquei sem chão..."_

"What happened while I was out?" Santana asked when Marley got in the car.

"The video went viral," Marley said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "The most seen is one where you have your back bleeding, lifting the car and throwing it at Hyde. Very dramatic. There's also a video of people coming to you while you were crying."

"I bet."

"Four students died, San."

"What? I... I didn't know. Cedes didn't tell me."

"Hyde killed four people before you stopped him on campus."

"Damn it!" Santana turned off the radio. The music no longer made sense. "Did you find out his identity?"

"Chandler Kiehl."

"Wait... wasn't this the college radio guy? Wasn't he one of those peace and love style?"

"It seems that the drug makes one very open to the power of suggestion. The first guy... he returned to normal after 48 hours and with no recollection of what happened."

"Who found this out?"

"Artie and George were able to access police information."

"What the hell... four people? Anyone I know?"

"I couldn't say. But the police seem to be willing to get you some space for now. Your university classmates held a vigil yesterday at the hospital, and Mercedes is going to do some press office work to see if she controls this information a bit."

"All this in one day?"

"We had to think fast."

"Four people died because of me..."

"Don't get into this guilt looping because it won't do any good. OK?"

Santana was silent, looked at the cityscape for a moment.

"Marley, why are we going to the cabin?"

"Quinn's orders."

"Since when does she give orders?"

"Since when have you been unable to think straight about the case and the group."

A few more minutes of silence. Santana's head was brooding over guilt, but Marley had something else in mind.

"San, are we good? I mean, what is our relationship?"

"I don't know, Marley. Don't ask me complicated questions now."

"You know? Once this crisis has passed, after we have resolved this case, I will ask that question again. If you don't change that answer, then our relationship will become purely professional."

"Why are you telling me this now?"

Marley didn't answer. She turned onto the gravel road and within minutes they reached the cabin where Quinn was waiting for them. The cold vigilante, in an adult black dress, smiled at her friend and helped her out of the car.

"I'm glad you are here. Beth's schedule is hanging in the fridge and Rachel's in there."

"Is Rachel here?" Santana frowned.

"Rachel needs to find her balance well back from Brody and the mess that turned her life around. You need to physically recover and resolve certain crucial issues with her. And for the rest of us, we need to have space and peace to solve the puzzle. That's why you two will stay in the cabin and take care of Beth for me, while we'll be in the apartment working." Quinn noticed the state of the vigilante. "Good thing you have clean clothes here... the car keys are hanging by the fridge."

Santana watched Quinn get into Marley's car. Who would say a person could change so much? After moving to the cabin, quitting her job as a book saleswoman and interning as a paralegal with Ryder Lynn, it was like someone else. It was as if Quinn had found her own space in the world. She was more confident, adult. And Quinn was right: Santana's life was a mess. The leader was in no condition to lead her own life, much less that of other people. She had to step back. Maybe two steps back. Santana also understood Marley's ultimatum. When Rachel appeared at the door, Santana knew she needed to make decisions about her feelings for Rachel to get back on track.


	15. Chapter 15

Santana watched Marley and Quinn walk away with a frown. Then she looked at Rachel, who was at the door, went toward her.

"I saw what happened to you. You need rest. I remember when Brittany healed you, you still needed a day to get back to normal. Imagine then when she's not here."

"I don't need rest, Berry. I just need a cup of coffee." Santana tried to take a few steps, but bumped into the stairs. Rachel supported her and avoided the fall.

"A cup of coffee, you said?"

"And sit down for a while, maybe." Santana leaned on the crush and again frowned. "But what are you doing here?"

"Quinn went to my house, talked to my parents and practically kidnapped me. I slept in the cabin last night while you were in the hospital... again."

"She said why she brought you here?"

"To get me away from the press, so I have a quiet place to regain control, and because she wanted to test a theory." Rachel said from inside the cabin, already helping Santana up the stairs to the room the vigilante usually occupied, and that would have to share by hour with Rachel herself. "You need to take a shower... I saw you have some clothes here."

"I know. Clothes I wear to train, mostly."

Rachel waited for Santana to take a shower. What else she had to do but nurse and babysit the vigilante? Not that she thought it was bad, because it was really great to leave her parents' house and go somewhere relatively far away, and at the same time she wouldn't be breaking any law. Santana came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, but already dressed in her panties and bra. Rachel helped the vigilante with the other garments, creating an awkward situation for both of them. The vigilante had an incredible body, feminine and muscular, that didn't go unnoticed by Rachel's eyes. Rachel's touch, in turn, burned Santana's skin. It was an electricity that the vigilante didn't feel with the same intensity with anyone else. But she held her ground, trying not to think about it too much. Rachel changed the bandage on Santana's back. The surgery, it seemed, was superficial judging by the size of the wound, but it was the accumulated fatigue that got in the way of Santana. They sat on the bed they would share. It was a strange situation, a little awkward.

"Hungry?" Rachel asked something trivial to break the ice of embarrassment.

"Not much."

"I'll make some soup anyway. A very substantial one."

Santana didn't question. It was good that Rachel left that room to do something else. She relaxed a little after Rachel closed the door and closed her eyes.

...

Santana woke up scared by the scream downstairs. She jumped out of bed and, in one breath, went to check on what was happening. She breathed a sigh of relief that it was just Rachel and Beth joking. The child squealed as she ran from her "aunt" Rachel. When Santana realized that all was well, she relaxed, her legs weakened a little and she felt pain all over her body, especially her newly operated shoulder. Santana, even without Brittany's intervention, healed faster than a normal person. But not that fast. At least, not as fast as she would like. Rachel looked up the stairs and saw her friend watching her. She stopped running after Beth and waved to the vigilante.

"You were sleeping like a rock. I didn't wanna wake you up. I made lunch and then I went to get Beth at school."

"I can see." Santana came down the stairs with a little difficulty. "Quinn and the others left a message?"

"Nothing. My phone didn't ring, neither yours."

"Quinn seems to be really determined in this business of taking the lead of the group as I recover. I can't say she's wrong."

"Neither can I. It's good to be in a place without a journalist at my door, or someone calling me a murderer. I needed that peace."

"The cabin is for that too."

Santana rummaged through the rest of the lunch Rachel had made. Salad, cheese and boiled vegetables. No meat, as it'd expect from a vegetarian. There was also the soup Rachel had promised to make. The soup looked and smelled good, but Santana wasn't in the mood. The vigilante also didn't mind the absence of any protein and helped herself to the rest of the lunch food. She was hungry and needed to chew on something. As she ate a little, she felt two pairs of eyes watching her. Santana didn't know what seeing her having lunch at four p.m was so appealing to Beth and Rachel.

"What's it? Did a third eye grow on my forehead?"

"I can fry a steak if you want." Rachel offered. "You must be very hungry."

Santana realized she had put all the leftover lunch in the pan and was eating right there. In fact it was a considerable amount of food that could impress anyone.

"Rabbit food doesn't support me. But thanks for the offer. I don't think I should eat fried food today."

"Marley sent the prescription on my cell phone. I bought your painkillers when I went to get Beth from school. Won't you want one?"

"No now. I'm good."

"Aunt Rachel, can I play video games?" The child interrupted both.

"Of course, Beth. You can play a little before you do your homework." Rachel smiled at the child and then turned her attention back to the vigilante. "Quinn said she won't come to sleep here today, that she's staying in the apartment. She really seems to be committed to the investigations."

"She's loving this superhero thing. Ice's looking more and more like my Superman's Batman."

"What a comparison!" Rachel allowed herself to smile.

"I mean that she's turning out to be a natural detective, while I'm more comfortable with the action and the patrol thing."

"I get the reference, San."

"Right..."

Santana finished the meal and sipped some juice. When she felt her arm a little, Rachel sent her away and finished cleaning the kitchen herself. Santana sat down and watched Rachel work quickly.

"How are you feeling?" The vigilante asked.

"I don't know... the only thing that comes to mind now is how good it is to have a little normalcy in my life after spending some time in jail."

"I also felt it on my skin. These guys have no preparation for dealing with someone like us."

"Not only that. They never looked at me with such dread. I was isolated all the time. There were always two police officers armed with rifles at my door. I had two meals a day, always in my cell. When they let me get some sun, I was also isolated with four policemen watching me with rifles in hand. It may seem unbelievable, but the best part of my day was when my lawyer or somebody visited me. At least it was some minutes that I could talk to someone."

"I'm so sorry that you have to go through that. When I got arrested, I think they were sure I would do nothing. That I could do nothing even to not compromise my image. So they tried to pull something from me violently. It didn't work, but I swear to you that I needed all my self-control. I wanted to strike back every blow in the same proportion."

"At least you're not being charged with murder."

"I know you are innocent."

"How can you be sure if I don't even have it? Santana, I exploded that night."

"What do you remember exactly?"

"I remember being angry with Brody. I don't remember exactly why, just know that his constant presence and all the pressure was choking me. So I decided to walk a little bit to take fresh air. I think Jenny was waiting for me, because she quickly intercepted me. She pointed the gun at me and got me into the car. I remember she was very nervous, she said she had killed you, but I couldn't believe it. I thought she was doing this just because she was a jealous bitch and wanted to see me out of her way. Which didn't make much sense either because I wasn't really in her way. I like you, San, but I wasn't interested in resuming our confused state of relationship. Well, I know she drove out of town, to the fisherman's trail, and she stopped the car there. I was really nervous because it was the moment I was sure Jenny was really going to kill me and throw my body into the river. I only know that I freaked out and exploded. Then I fainted and only remember when I woke up early in the morning to the noise of the police car. Jenny was already dead. That's when I was arrested."

"I can imagine Jenny's despair and confusion. I had never seen her so out of her mind, and you know what I did? I turned my back on her. If I could go back..."

"What would you have done?"

"I would have talked to her. I would have paid attention."

"Too bad we don't know anyone with the power to go back to the past."

"I believe there is no one with that power. I think it would be chaos if anyone had it."

"How do you know if it would be chaos?"

"I don't know. Imagine someone creating multiverse at will? It doesn't look good to me."

"Multiverse? You really are a nerd in the closet!" Rachel allowed herself to exchange smiles with the vigilante before facing her friend again.

"How are you feeling? I mean, really." Santana repeated the question.

"Frustrated, annoyed, worried. I'm afraid of being convicted of a crime that I don't really know if I committed, I'm afraid of not being able to control myself anymore, I'm afraid I'll never be able to resume my career. And you?"

"Frustrated, annoyed, worried… aching, exhausted, tired of stopping at the hospital. Someone's been making Hydes in town, and we don't know exactly for what purpose. There's your trial... there's the fact that our identity is public now... all at the same time."

"Santana..."

"What?"

"Do you forgive me?" Rachel stared at the floor, not wanting to see her friend's face at that particular moment.

"Forgive what?"

"For killing Jenny."

"You didn't kill Jenny."

"But I was there… I lost control and exploded. Even though I didn't stab her, I hurt her when I exploded. Do you forgive me?"

Santana sighed. She looked through the window at the trees surrounding the property. There was nothing more then than the noise of the wind in the crowns and the noise of the birds.

"Jenny was out of her mind. You had to save yourself."

"Did you forgive her for shooting you?"

"I'm still trying to forgive myself." Santana confessed. "Jenny was clearly in a bad, unstable moment, and I turned my back on her."

"Because of me."

"Not because of you. Don't take it wrong... but sometimes I wonder if the fact that I like you has anything to do with that Florence Nightingale effect."

"With what?"

"That nurse's syndrome that falls in love with the patient? I had never called you until that day at the park. I took that guy off of you... then you saved me that day... And then came the bid of your latent powers arising from all the trauma. It became a snowball while I we are getting involved."

"Is that what I am? A psychological pathology? I have to confess this is new."

"It's not your fault, Rachel. I am just trying to understand myself. That's why I think there's no reason to forgive you for something you didn't build. It was me. You have fallen victim to my own mess as a person and as a vigilante. That's why I think it's me who needs forgiveness."

"Were you to blame for Howard robbing me and molesting me that day in the park?"

"No." Santana frowned.

"Did you ever tell Jenny that you were leaving her because of me?"

"No. My relationship with her was doomed since before you showed up."

"Did you give her the revolver and said her to kidnap me?"

"No... Rachel, what point do you want to reach?"

"If it's forgiveness you need, Santana, I forgive you for being such an unresolved superheroine in the sentimental field. Feeling guilty for the rest of the world is what is killing you. I think you never got over the accident with that first girlfriend of yours. For real? You need urgent therapy! That said, do you forgive me for hurting Jenny?"

"Y-yes." Santana still said uncertainly, taken aback by what Rachel had just told her.

"Thank you! It means a lot to me."

Both allowed the silence to speak at that moment. They stood there, listening to the ambient noise and unable to get out of place.

"This is not a good time in our lives." Rachel whined.

"Not really... but at least we can try to solve something here and now."

"What?"

"Work on your control. We can start from the basics again, do some tai chi and meditation. What do you think?"

"I don't think we should do it now. I mean, we have to keep an eye on Beth."

"I teach her to do tai chi too. I bet she'll love it."

"But you are in pain."

"And I will continue to feel pain, Rachel, even if I spend all day in bed. So I'd rather take Quinn's genius idea of isolating us in the cabin, and try to clear my mind to think better of everything that has been said here."

"Be my guest, Santana. I'm good here and now doing my babysitting job."

Rachel watched Santana go to the porch of the cabin. Through the large window, she watched the vigilante raise her hand to her shoulder and test her movements a little. Santana's face didn't lie about the pain. Even so, the vigilante tried to stretch minimally before positioning herself for a breathing exercise in one of the yoga positions. Rachel checked Beth quickly and asked the girl to do her homework, that the time for rest and play was over. Beth showed Rachel homework. They would have to read a book, answer some questions, and Beth should illustrate the moral of the story.

Rachel settled on the couch and read the short story to Beth, taking the opportunity to make different voices and spice up the exercise with a little acting. She helped Beth write the answers, which at that level were still quite elementary. The actress left the little girl at the center table doing the illustration to check on the vigilante one more time. Rachel stepped out of the cabin onto the porch and watched Santana a little bit. The vigilante's eyes were closed and she was making tai chi chuam's slow movements with accuracy. Rachel found it so beautiful, Santana was almost mesmerizing. She didn't join the vigilante, but sat on the bench, snuggled up, and was quiet. Rachel didn't know if it was just in her mind, but she was feeling a little better at the cabim. Her eyes didn't burn once during the day, she felt no tingling in her hands and not even the uncomfortable sensation of a pressure in the pit of her stomach. It had been a long time since she felt this good.

Beth ran out of the cabin with the drawing in hand. Rachel picked up the girl and analyzed the illustration. Beth didn't show a talent indicating that she would be a new Frida Khalo, but hey, she could at least get the message across the picture. Rachel looked at Santana and noticed that the vigilante had stopped the exercise and was watching their interaction. The actress's face flushed for a few seconds.

"Are you feeling better?" Rachel asked Santana who, looking well, looked pale.

"I'll get there." Santana nodded. "I think I'll need those painkillers now... and get some rest."

"You shouldn't have forced yourself so much. Yesterday you were at a surgical table pulling a bullet out of your body!" Rachel got up and went to the vigilante, ready to support her if necessary.

"I don't have the luxury of not being prepared, Rach. Sooner or later, danger will knock on the door."

"Today you have this luxury. We have it." Rachel put her arm around Santana's waist and helped her inside. "You may be strong and you can heal fast, but right now you need a bed!"

The vigilante smiled as little Beth ran to also "help" up the stairs. Santana used the bathroom, washed her face and lay down. Meanwhile, Rachel grabbed the pills and a glass of water. She hurried up the stairs and poured the medicine. Santana still interacted a little with Beth, making clever and slightly provocative comments about the videos and children's cartoons the girl showed her. Then the eyes weighed and Santana slept once more.

Rachel sighed, put a blanket on the vigilante and went to take care of the house. Not that there was much to do in the cabin. Quinn was an organized woman and the cleanliness of the place was very good. After helping Beth with the bath, having a quick snack, and putting on her nightgowns, Rachel tried to resist, but ended up checking the news of the day on her cell phone. There was nothing new about her case in the papers, which was a good sign, but there were countless headlines about Santana and the wave of Jekyll and Hydes in the city. The university would award the security guard who rescued the vigilante at a crucial moment by crashing the electric car against the monster. Students held a vigil to honor colleagues killed by the university's Hyde, but support for the vigilante was split between Santana being a hero or being responsible for the misfortune on campus.

Rachel frowned when she saw the warning sign. She accessed the link and saw a minute-by-minute call from an attack that was taking place in the city. Apparently there were two Hydes attacking in the downtown. By the reports, the vigilantes and the police weren't holding the attacks. Rachel was terrified. She had to do something, but she was 15km from the action, she couldn't leave Beth alone and Santana was out of combat. What to do? She ran upstairs and entered the room she shared with Santana. She was surprised to see the vigilante standing.

"What is it?" Rachel said urgently.

"Calm down! I just went to pee." Santana then noticed Rachel's condition. She wouldn't look terrified just hearing her slam the bathroom door. "What happened?"

"Two Hydes are attacking in downtown... I think... San ... I need help Quinn... She's not you."

"You stay with Beth. I'll go."

Santana tried to run to put on her sneakers, but bumped into the corner of the bed and fell to the floor over her injured shoulder. It was obvious that Santana would make no difference in those conditions, and was more likely to be killed. Santana has faced three Hydes practically alone in recent days and was physically exhausted. But the other vigilante needed support, and Rachel was the only one who could make a difference at the moment.

"I'll go and you stay."

"You are crazy? You can't"

Rachel's eyes reddened and she raised her hands toward Santana. She tried to control herself and fired a surge of energy at the vigilante, who was thrown against the bedroom wall. Santana fell on the floor and Rachel ran toward the car. She passed Beth halfway and said urgently to the little girl.

"Beth, you need to take care of your Aunt Santana for me, okay?"

Rachel took the keys from the old car that belonged to Santana and darted downtown. She raced past an electronic gearbox and mentally promised to pay the fine that would come in a few days. She passed the high bridge and soon saw that a traffic jam was forming due to the blockade in the city center. Rachel parked the car and ran toward downtown. Cars were stopped, people were running in the opposite direction. Rachel had neither the stamina nor the speed of Santana, which could reach in the open just over 50 km/h and sustain such top speed for several minutes. Rachel ran like anyone else, and in that chaotic scenario, she did what she found most advantageous: she stole a bicycle. Rachel cycled to the police barrier and pierced the blockade of curious people until he reached the officers. It made it a little easier for some people to have recognized and pioneered it.

"Where do you think you're going?" A police officer pushed her away.

"I'm Rachel Berry... I can help the vigilante."

"Let her pass!" Shouted someone.

"Where is Lopez?" Another policeman asked.

"She can't even stand up! The other vigilante only have me to help. Take it or leave it!"

The policeman stepped out of front of Rachel. She was startled by the scenario beyond the barrier: crumpled cars, abandoned in the middle of the track. Rachel rushed toward the noise of gunshots, crashes, crashing glass. She wished to take a little better care of her fitness. She was breathless when she found a Hyde on the ground, apparently dead. But not only that: there was a vigilante also on the floor. Despite the urge to go to her friend, Rachel had to go through the body and help another vigilante who had just been thrown to the ground to avoid being hit by a car. Where were the others? Rachel, even out of breath and feeling the uncomfortable pain diverted, she raised her hands and concentrated on releasing the energy through her arms. It struck the creature, giving the vigilante enough time to get up. Rachel fired again. It was a weaker gust, but enough to unbalance Hyde. The vigilante seized the opportunity and ran to the creature and held her head. Only then did Rachel identify that the vigilante still standing was Quinn, or rather Ice, as she should be called on the field. Quinn gave it her all, not only giving Hyde a brain shock, but also freezing the entire upper body of the creature, creating a layer of ice. It was over.

Quinn sat on the asphalt and Rachel approached. She noticed that her friend was panting. She was wearing an exoskeleton-type outfit, but the cables were bent and broken. That costume lost its function at some point.

"Thanks," Quinn said without removing the mask that protected her identity.

Rachel offered her hand to raise Quinn, who immediately accepted.

"How did San do this alone?" Quinn questioned and stood up with difficulty. It seemed to be in great pain. "Did you see Flying?"

"There's a vigilante lying next to one of them right behind."

Quinn shook her face and rubbed her eyes.

"Matt," she said simply and turned her back, as if to control herself so as not to collapse. "Flying... we need to find Flying." Quinn picked up the broken listening device and showed it to Rachel. "I have no communication with the tower."

Quinn walked with difficulty. She tripped over her own legs and would fall if Rachel didn't have her close and attentive. The actress put her friend's arm around her shoulders and allowed Quinn to prop her up.

"Over there," Quinn pointed out.

"Hey... vigilant!" Both were interrupted by the policeman in the area. The officer had the gun in his hand, pointing at Quinn.

"You have already revealed Santana Lopez's identity and screwed up with her life. Isn't it enough?"

The policeman stopped for a moment and lowered his weapon.

"It's just a truce, vigilante. Don't keep thinking we'll stop until we unmask each of you."

"Whatever..." Quinn indicated the direction of wreckage and twisted cars.

Rachel did her best to drive Quinn to the scene. The actress soon understood why Ice wanted to go in that direction. You could see someone was under the twisted car. It was the flying one. Quinn went to him and searched for the pulse in his neck. She was relieved to realize that her friend was fine.

"Rachel, I need some help here. Can you concentrate your power to get the car off him?"

"I can try, but you'll have to pull it fast."

"OK. I will try my best."

"At three."

Rachel positioned herself to direct the power from the bottom up. She concentrated, felt the characteristic stinging in her eyes, the tingling in her arms.

"Three!" Rachel shouted and Quinn pulled Artie's body onto the free pavement.

They didn't have time to check on their friend. With the two Hydes out of combat, the police began to approach. Quinn tried to drag the Flying into the shadows and out of the picture. Rachel, realizing her friend's intentions, took her colleague's other arm and they both dragged Artie into the cradle, away from the illumination and eyes of the other cops. Quinn ran her hand over her friend's communication equipment and sighed with relief. It was working.

"Tower ... Ice to Tower."

" _Tower speaking... it's a relief to know you're okay, Ice_."

"Tower, I need transportation."

" _Ice! This is Gabget."_ Quinn heard his friend's voice on the line. _"I lost your signal._ "

"Gabget, do you have the Flying's GPS?"

" _Yes._ "

"That's enough. We are with him. "

" _Go to 12th Street. I'll get you there._ "

"OK."

Quinn stared at Rachel and grabbed the flying's arm.

"Can you help me?"

"Of course."

12th Street was next door to where they were. Quinn and Rachel managed to drag Artie until they were quickly intercepted by a black van. The door was opened by Brittany, who helped Mercedes get Artie into the vehicle. George started off with the van as soon as everyone was inside. Mercedes was confused.

"What is Rachel Berry doing here?" Mercedes turned to Quinn.

"What is Brittany doing here? Why didn't she go to heal Santana?" Rachel snapped.

"Where's Matt? Why did we lose your signal? What happened to Artie?" Mercedes also questioned.

"We can't do anything for Matt... he saved me and killed one of them, but the other Hyde..." Quinn's voice was stunned. She paused for a second and wiped her tears, even swearing to herself that she wouldn't cry. Then the story went on. "Artie was taken aback when one of the Hydes threw a car to hit him. Only I got it over. That Hyde destroyed my suit and I was already losing hope. That's when Rachel showed up."

"Why Rachel?" Mercedes insisted.

"Santana can barely stand up. I had to come."

"Who called you? Was it Marley?" Mercedes questioned. "The orders were clear not to involve Santana at all!"

"I heard about the attack through social media, okay?" Rachel said as she watched Brittany already working on healing Artie.

"Rachel saved me." Quinn wanted to end the discussion. "The Hydes have clearly come to get us out of the way."

"Quinn", Rachel said cautiously. "What happened today? What did you find out?"

"What didn't happen, Rach..." Quinn leaned against the van's seat and took a sip of water. She closed her eyes and remembered the busiest day she'd ever had in her life.


End file.
